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angel-of-the-moons · 5 months

Note

I need to make a request where dom!reader pegs sub!Johnny Cage, I need him so bad its not even funny anymore

Pegging Johnny? In my house? It's more likely than you think!

Fresh Act

Johnny Cage x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: NSFW, smut, sex toys, pegging, cumshot, Johnny whines when he's pegged you can't change my mind, slight spanking, recording, mentions of handcuffs, plugs, vibrators, fisting

MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

A/N: pls don't look at me because of those tags asdfghjkl

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Johnny Cage was many things. An actor, a fighter, a champion, and now a director.

But there was one thing you knew he was that you were sure nobody else did--even his ex-wife, Cris--was that Johnny Cage was a bottom.

The energy this man exuded, the charisma and confidence would make anybody think that he was the boss in the bedroom.

But nope.

It was you.

Oh, how Johnny loved it when you would cuff his hands to the bed and just edge him for hours, especially if you straddled his thighs while he had a plug in--a pretty little shiny one with a cute green gem in the base--and you had some sort of vibrating implement to his cock.

Double that if you used one of those vibrating stroking toys.

But something you hadn't even thought about, surprisingly... was pegging. Let alone filming the two of you while you did it. You'd heard too many horror stories of celebrity sex tapes being leaked online and you weren't sure you could handle the thought of you (and Johnny) in such a vulnerable position.

The tabloids would eat you both up.

But having Johnny sit at the edge of your bed, shirtless, wearing sweats that hung far too low on his hips, sporting a rather happy and aching erection; and in his hand was a strap and a harness he ordered online, his phone in the other.

"So... Like. Cris would never humor me with this sort of thing. She didn't like it, but I thought if I brought it up with you..." He said.

And, god, his face has the cutest, most ridiculous set of puppy dog eyes he's tried with you yet. He almost made you cave instantly.

Almost.

"Johnny." You sigh, rubbing your forehead as you looked down at him. "Honey, I mean the dildo is one thing, but the camera?"

"Okay, I can totally take this." He said, shaking said object in his hand.

He changes it up and wiggles his phone instead, now. "And this? The video will just be for me n' you, Kitten. I promise. I'm really just gonna keep it when I need you but you're not with me. Like on set."

You couldn't help but chuckle at him with a huff. Yeah, of course he masturbated while on set. Johnny was the kind of guy to do that, after all.

"And how do you know you can take it, hm?" You ask, pointing to the dildo.

He makes a sideways grin and tilts his head, looking off to the side. "Well..."

"Johnny..."

"Okay, okay!" He laughed, leaning back on his elbows, his sweats stretching and emphasizing the outline of his dick. Your eyes flicked down his body to eye it for a few seconds, and the way his grin widened irritated you.

He was getting uppity with you again, trying to push your buttons. And you knew it.

You knew he knew it.

You cross your arms and narrow your eyes at him, pushing your breasts up just a bit.

"So, you know how I've been stressed about the new scenes on set? Yeah, so I've been experimenting with this and, well... I mean it's a bit bigger than the one I use--"

"So what I'm hearing is you've been keeping toys a secret from me." Your finger begins to tap your arm impatiently.

The way his eyes nervously dart around as he struggles to find words sends a delicious thrill through your body.

"Er, well, I..." He coughs. "Well don't think of it as hiding so much as... er. Waiting to surprise you?"

You scoff and slowly crawl over him, your leg between his thighs and intentionally pressing against his throbbing cock.

You apply a bit of pressure and tilt your head, your expression cold and calculating as he bites his lip and breathes hard through his nose.

"Sounds to me like you're making excuses." You state flatly.

The bobbing of his throat sealed his fate.

"Safeword?"

"Peaches."

"Want me to push it?" You ask, your hand sliding over his thigh, the tip of your thumb just barely tracing the side of his cock.

"Not tonight, but if I get overwhelmed I'll tell you." He says, licking his bottom lip as your thumb pressed against him with more pressure.

You slowly grin at him. "You said I can't push it, so I won't hurt you. But seriously, let me know if it's too much."

"I will, babe." He says as you kiss his lips softly.

"Kay. Now get naked and on all fours."

"Fffuuuck...." He groaned deeply.

"Johnny..." You say, your voice lashing with ice.

"Yes ma'am."

"Good boy." You purr. "Now do what I said or I'll just cockwarm you all night with no relief."

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Being with Johnny had allowed an inner demon of yours to come out. One you had no idea you were keeping locked up inside of you.

And boy, did she crave topping and dominating someone. And Johnny was more than happy to be that someone.

Setting up the camera took a bit of time, you let Johnny get up when you were struggling with positioning and lighting. After all, you wanted the both of you to look good in your homemade sex tape.

Once you were both satisfied with the way it was set up, you had Johnny get back into position, his cock jutting out between his legs, twitching and proud, his thighs were tense with excitement and his balls were nice and heavy from the edging you gave him.

Maybe next time you'd put him in a band, or a nice tight cock ring while you did this to him.

Next time.

Right now you had your bottom lip sucked between your teeth, chewing on it as you watched him shake with anticipation.

You palm his ass cheek firmly, giving him a soft squeeze; the latex on your fingers squeaking softly. "Now, Johnny... Here's a few rules. You have to keep yourself propped up. You're not allowed to touch yourself. I'll let you know when you can cum. If you do it before I say..."

You reach and squeeze his balls softly, earning a shaky whimper from him.

"I'm putting you in a Cage, Johnny." You grin maliciously. "Understood?"

The way his head shook had your heart yearning to just pull him back and kiss him stupid.

But already he was forgetting the game.

You give him another squeeze, just barely above pain.

"Johnny..." You scold.

"Yes ma'am." He wheezed.

You release him and give his ass an affectionate pat. "Good boy."

You hum as you grab the bottles of lube--one of several-- from the heating pad you had them resting on. There was one thing you knew almost nobody liked, and that was cold lube.

And it was always good to have a ton of lube on hand. No matter what, every time you think you have enough, you use more. For everyone's comfort.

And despite Johnny's assurances that he's had a dildo up his ass before, you wanted to have all your bases covered. You didn't want to hurt him unless he wanted it. Spanking or slapping or biting was one thing, but fucking his ass with inadequate levels of lube or prep could result in a hospital trip in the worst case scenario...

You popped the cap and spread his cheeks, slowly dribbling the clear liquid straight down onto his asshole, using one finger to tease the puckered flesh with an idle hum still in your voice as he sucked in a tight breath as your gloves finger massaged his tight, velvety walls.

You both agreed that for this situation, it was smart to wear some latex gloves so your nails wouldn't scratch his delicate insides. After all, even you used gloves when you fingered yourself, sometimes; having claws scratching up your lady bits was uncomfortable and could lead to infections.

"You good, Johnny?" You ask him gently.

"Y-yeah." He whimpered and quickly corrected himself. "Yes, ma'am. Ugh. You..."

He dropped his head and his upper body heaved with heavy breaths as he composed himself.

"You can use more than one."

Your brow quirked and you smiled impishly. "You want me to?"

"Please."

"Okay, baby." You murmur, pulling your finger out of his ass and holding your hand up, dripping a copious amount of lube on your first three fingers. You didn't want him too tight when you fucked him with the strap, and besides... teasing him was always part of your game.

Sometimes you wanted him so strung out he would cum from a puff of air. You wouldn't go so far tonight, you wanted him to cum on that hefty silicone dick of yours.

The groan that came from his throat as you eased your fingers inside of him made your clit twitch against the straining leather of the harness, your wet cunt already causing some nice slippery friction that stimulated you, too.

Johnny had thought of everything for this, he had the harness designed custom just for you and him, he had it made so if you wanted, you could have a vibrator stuck into a pouch in the front to stimulate your clit alongside the soft bump that rubbed against you with every movement you made, making your nipples pebble and goosebumps raise along your skin.

You twisted and pressed your fingers in every angle you could manage until Johnny collapsed down onto his elbows with a small moan.

You halt your fingers entirely and pull them out until just the tips of them remained inside, frowning down at your mega-star boyfriend.

"Johnny..."

He swallowed audibly and hauled himself back up onto shaky palms, his shoulders tense from the strain and effort.

And he thought planking was hard...

"That's my boy." You chuckle, thrusting your fingers back inside, curling them in a "come hither" manner, stroking his walls gently and oh so sweetly.

You bite your lip and move your hips closer, until your strap on was pressed against the underside of his cock and balls, giving external stimulation as you fucked his ass with your hand.

You were tempted to see if he could take the whole thing, but like your earlier thoughts you saved that idea for later.

You twist your hand downward as you look at the phone you and Johnny had set up, facing you with the front-facing camera, the ring light illuminating you two wonderfully. The energy of your bedroom and the candles lit provided a gorgeous backdrop for this; and the way you could actually see how Johnny looked on all fours, his eyes squeezed shut and biting his lip in concentration as sweat dripped down his forehead made your hips thrust against his in an automatic reaction.

He made a short gasp as your silicone cock grinded against his, pressing against his full balls while your fingers angled down, dangerously close to his prostate but not close enough to give hime spine-tingling relief.

You made a mental note to buy a custom stroker that you could shove alongside his cock, next time. You'd love to see him on his back as you grounded and stroked your cock alongside his, watching him come in thick ropes up his well-toned abs... maybe you'd have him lick your toy clean afterwards.

God, he was your inner demon's muse. He was so good at giving you ideas with just those pathetic little moans and whimpers of his.

"Look at you," You coo down at him. "Taking my hand so good."

You knew he could probably cum just like this, lazily stroking his hips against you, his cock sliding against yours as your fingers pumped in and out of him, stretching his hole out nice and wide for you.

But no, if he was gonna cum, it was gonna be while you fucked him hard with that goddamn strap-on he wanted so badly.

You pulled away all at once without warning, his ass twitching and empty at the loss of you. He looked over his shoulder at you, not voicing his question--because he knew he'd be punished if he got impatient--and his brows were creased pathetically in a silent plea for you to continue.

You acted like you didn't notice, humming a little tune as you poured what was left of the bottle of lube you were using on the dildo. You grabbed another warmed up bottle and applied more, stroking it with your fingers, trailing over the life-like silicone; the veins prominent and the foreskin creased as you pulled back like a real cock.

Fuck, you almost wished you had one, just to know how he'd feel all snug around you.

You rolled your hips into your touch, giving yourself some friction and making small moans--some for show, some genuine--as your clit bumped and rolled against the raised indent on the inside of the harness, more slick gushing from your wanting cunt.

You barely glimpsed at him out of the corner of your eyes, looking at him as he watched you, his eyes practically glistening with tears as he watched you slowly get yourself off, leaving him bereft and craving.

You were merciful and turned back to him, pouring more lube into his ass that was still clenching around air, waiting for you.

You pressed the tip against him, relishing in how his whole body seemed to go still as death as he waited.

But nothing happened.

You tapped the head of the toy against his waiting hole, "Remember. Use the safeword, and if you cum before I say, you're in trouble."

"Yes ma'am." He sighed, his voice watery and knees weak. "Please."

"Alright." You say, your tongue clicking as you press harder, the tip popping right into his asshole with wondrous ease, making you moan involuntarily at the mere sight as his hands bunched the expensive sheets, his cock leaking fresh, heavy drops of his precum.

"Fuck." He groaned as you eased in, inch by torturous inch.

"Doing s' good for me, baby." You praise as the toy is swallowed by his hungry body. "Takin' my cock so good. Next time I'm gonna have you ride it, m'kay?"

"Yes--fuck--please." He whined loudly, his spine arching and head tipping back as you finally bottomed out.

You rested there, letting the weight of the strap rest in his guts, getting snug and comfortable as his insides contorted around its shape, committing it to memory.

Cris was fucking stupid for not doing this to him. He was fucking gorgeous all split open and trembling for you, his muscles quivering as your spread your hand, palm down and fingers splayed while you slid it up his back, feeling just how sweaty he got.

"Gonna start moving." You tell him as you pull back; not quite as slow as when you were pushing in, but you were being gentle for him.

Just this once.

After that? Fuck, you were relentless.

You would roll your hips like you did when you rode his cock, gyrating and slapping against his ass as the stimulation from the harness pushed you closer and closer to your own orgasm while you fucked him.

You drove in and in, and in and in more and more, the tip of the dildo stabbing him in a way that he never managed on his own. God, Johnny wanted to badly to grip and tug his cock, to stroke himself so he could just cum already, but he remembered your rules and your promise to really make him suffer if he did what you expressly told him he couldn't.

All he could do was mumble and babble things almost incoherently, rolling his hips back against yours, his ass slapping audibly against your sweaty skin, the sound of your false cock lewd and wet as you buried yourself again and again, pile-driving the air out of his lungs with every punch of your hips.

"Fuck." You whined softly, feeling the flames of your own release began to creep up your spine, your blood turning to molten lava as the friction from the harness against the swollen bud of your clit makes your nerves light up and your brain almost forget what you were doing as you mindlessly chase your own release; your puffy lips and slick cunt gushing so much it feels like you could drown him if his face were in-between your legs, the clear, sticky juices dripping down your thighs as your hips snap up against his while you cum, your hands gripped tight on his hips to ground yourself.

As the haze of your orgasm ebbed and your hot slick dribbled down the skin of your inner thighs, you remember that you were buried all the way inside of Johnny's ass.

You smile, feeling a little guilty that you got so consumed in the moment that you'd neglected and forgot all about your whimpering and squirming boyfriend beneath you.

He hasn't said the safeword yet, and he has been good. Almost unusually, for him, to behave so well in bed. Sometimes he lived for your little punishments.

So, you decided to extend the olive branch of mercy yet again as you pull out, and angle your hips so you can press the tip against his prostate.

"Go on ahead 'n cum for me, baby." You coo at him, your voice becoming only slightly rough as you plowed full steam into his ass, relishing in the noises he made as he rocked shamelessly against you, the sweetest most pathetic noises coming from his cute lips alongside your name.

When Johnny Cage cums, he does so with his entire body, trembling, gripping, thrusting, arching... He does it all, puts his whole body into the effort of letting you know that he's at his limit and you've brought him there.

Hot, thick ropes of white shoot from the weeping and sensitive tip of his cock as you help him ride it out, smiling in amusement as he essentially rides you from below as he collapses his upper body down against the pillows, drooling just a little bit as his brain slowly kicks back on.

You could swear you could hear the dial-up internet sounds coming from his mind as you pull the dildo out of him.

"That good, huh?" You tease playfully.

"So, so good." He groans, rolling onto his back, just off to the side of the mess he made in the satiny sheets.

You hum in acknowledgement as you undo the clasps and buckles of the harness, turning the heating pad with the lube off as you set the harness and toy atop it.

You lean down and grab Johnny by his jaw, bringing his lips to yours in a heavy, loving and desperate kiss as his hands smooth up your back and down again, kneading and pulling the cheeks of your ass apart.

"Mmh. Again?" You murmur against his lips.

"As much as I'd love to do that again, I need some time to warm up, Kitten." He chuckles at you.

"But I can do that while you sit on my face, right?"

#mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat smut #johnny cage mk1 #johnny cage x reader #johnny cage smut #johnny cage mk #🌙 answered

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sxfthannie · 8 months

Text

Possessive

↦ pairing: yandere!coups x reader

↦ warnings: yandere genre is a warning itself ig?

↦ note: just randomly thought about what type of yandere coups would be and he strikes me as a possessive type so here it is!

↦ word count: 730

Seungcheol gazed at you with a gentle smile gracing his lips, admiring the way you consume the meal he has prepared for you. Your hand trembles ever so slightly as you bring the chopsticks to your lips, but to him, it only adds to your cuteness.

"You're finally eating properly." He remarked, interrupting your actions as you glanced up at him from across the rustic dining table. Seungcheol noticed you setting down your utensils, already knowing the words that are about to escape your lips. "Please, let me go." You whispered, barely audible, but the tranquil forest that envelops the wooden house amplifies your voice.

"Aigoo, my precious one." He coos, sliding into the chair beside you and taking hold of your chopsticks. "You mustn't waste your food." He ignores your pathetic begs.

His smile is gentle, but his touch is insistent as he guides the food towards your lips. You resist, pushing his hand away, and he clicks his tongue in frustration. "You were doing so well." He sighs, setting the chopsticks down with a sharp thud. "Do I need to starve you again?" His eyes bore into yours, and you feel a shiver run down your spine.

As the tears finally made their way down your cheeks, you couldn't help but feel overwhelmed. The weight of missing your home, family, friends, and the life you once knew was too much to bear. But what hurt the most was missing the Seungcheol you once knew - the CEO who guided you with unwavering patience, correcting your work-related blunders with a gentle touch.

"Please, Seungcheol. I miss my family, my friends." you begged him again, his smile returning to his face. "You don't need them." He spoke in a voice that was soft and soothing that might have calmed you before, but it only sent shivers down your spine now. "All you need is me." He wiped away your tears, and you didn't dare move away from his touch, afraid that you might anger him again.

"I am the answer to all your needs, my love." He whispers, his hand gently caressing your cheek. "You will get caught one day." You glare at him through tear-filled eyes, warning him of the consequences of his actions. But he only chuckles, amused by your futile attempts to stop him. "Caught? Me?" He laughs. "It took me two years to plan this whole thing. Do you really think I'll get caught?"

He pulls you towards the living room, sitting down on the sofa and tugging you onto his lap. You felt uncomfortable, but you didn't fight back knowing his strength couldn’t be compared.

"Even if I did leave evidence, I have a man on the inside. A trustworthy ally in the police department." He smirks, wrapping his arms around your waist. "A cop is your ally?" Your brows furrow in disbelief as he nods to your question. "Surprising isn’t it?" Seungcheol’s finger traces the line of your cheekbone and down to your neck. "To witness such injustice from those who are meant to uphold the law." His dark orbs flicker towards yours. "What a sad world we live in."

You were completely caught in his trap, like a helpless fly caught in the spider's embrace. The very air around you seemed to thicken with his presence, suffocating you with his power. Even the damn cop was in on it, a willing pawn in his twisted game.

He smiled at you, a sickly sweet expression that made your skin crawl. He lifted you from his lap and placed you on the couch, as if you were a child to be coddled. "Stay here like the good girl you are." He said, his voice dripping with honey. "I have some business to attend to." You watched him put on his shoes, wondering where he was going. Seunghceol answered your unspoken question with a smirk. "The cops want to talk to me about you," he said. "But don't worry, my love. They have no idea you're here with me."

He laughed, a cruel sound that echoed through the empty house. "Don't even think about leaving." he warned, turning to face you. "You won't make it far in this forest. And I wouldn't want to have to come looking for you." With that, he left, the sound of the front door slamming shut ringing in your ears.

You were alone, trapped in his lair with no hope of escape.

#cheollie !#choi seungcheol #choi seungcheol fanfic #seungcheol x reader #yandere seungcheol #yandere scoups #yandere seventeen #seventeen x reader #scoups x reader #choi seungcheol smut #scoups smut #seventeen #seventeen fanfic #nia yandere !#csc possessive

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thetriumphantpanda · 10 months

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Ghost Of You | J. Miller (Chapter Five)

Series Summary / Grief is a strange thing. In the beginning it had been all-consuming. There wasn’t a moment of the day where you didn’t cry, didn’t ask yourself why it couldn’t have been you instead. And no-one ever explains the guilt you feel when it isn’t anymore. When it’s just a dull ache and you can finally breathe again, when you can start letting people get close to you again. People like Joel Miller.

Pairing / Joel Miller x Widow F!Reader

Word Count / 3.7k

Warnings / FLUFF. ACTUAL FLUFF AND SOME HAPPINESS. Talking about suicide, mourning and descriptions of grief and depression. And a little surprise right at the end that I will not spoil for y'all.

Authors Note / Okay. I LOVE THIS CHAPTER SO MUCH. I have to admit when I wrote it I actually made myself cry and that's no word of a lie. I am having so much fun fleshing this story out and I hope that the slow burn isn't too slow for y'all but I promise these two are moving in the direction we want them to move in - I PROMISE YOU. If you enjoy this then I would LOVE to hear from you - Comments, reblogs and asks genuinely make my day.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

A week later, your garden is abuzz with life. Tommy has dragged the kettle grill from his garden into your own and is currently trying to get the coals to light, Joel is standing over his shoulder trying to get him to listen to what he thinks will work. You giggle to yourself when Tommy follows Joel’s instructions, and the flames catch. Younger brother yet again bested by his older brother’s knowledge.

Maria is stepping out of the kitchen with plates and cutlery, placing them on the table, where Ellie is sat curled on the chair with her nose in a book. She’d come to the library on Monday and switched Artemis Fowl for the Chronicles of Narnia, another good choice in your opinion, and she’d spent most of the last thirty minutes with her nose stuck in the book.

“Here you go, honey,” Maria pushes a glass of blackberry wine into your hand, “Shane sent us a bloody crate of this stuff, he’s made so much this year.”

You clink your glass with her own and take a sip, letting the sweet liquid fall down your throat. You have to admit it was getting better with every year. The first year Shane had proudly debuted his wine it was way too sour, everyone apart from Tommy had been too polite to tell him so. The next year, it had been drowned in enough sugar to give anyone diabetes, but now he was getting the hang of it, and with the sun starting to lower in the sky and all your favourite people, apart from one, around you, you had to admit you thought you were happy.

You’d spent all day cooking side dishes that you’d saved up your ration cards for. Potato salad, a slapdash attempt at Greek salad, just without feta and balsamic vinegar, you’d even made a fresh loaf of bread. Maria and Tommy had brought meat to grill – there were steaks from the last lot of cows to have been slaughtered, chicken that Maria had skewered with peppers, and even burgers and sausages. Your luck to have found this place never failed to amaze you. You could convince yourself all this was back on the street you’d lived at in California before outbreak day. Ellie had even attempted to make a pie as dessert. She’d lifted the cloth covering the pastry when she’d knocked on the door, Joel in tow.

“It’s apple, because I remember you saying that was your favourite,” You’d smiled and pulled her into a quick hug, “Joel insisted on a whole pastry lid though, something about it being better than the lattice.”

You’d looked him in the eye, “Well, Joel is outnumbered here, but we’ll let him off for tonight.”

He’d dipped to kiss your cheek as he’d walked in through the threshold, passing a bottle of whiskey to you, “If you set that in the freezer it’ll be nice and chilled for something to drink after dinner.”

Once the flames have died down and the coals are embers, you watch Tommy set the chicken skewers on the grill. You head inside and pull your sides out of the fridge, cutting slices of bread. There’s a tiny amount of butter left which you also pull out, setting everything on the table outside, watching as Ellie’s eyes bulge at foods she’d never experienced before. You smirk at her, whispering that she’s welcome to try anything she wants but to make sure Joel doesn’t catch her, sure that he’ll chide her for her manners.

You go back inside and pull another plate out for Tommy to set the cooked meat on and fill two tumblers of whiskey for the two of them, setting them on the empty plate to take them down to the men.

“It never fails to amaze me how much cooking on fire takes you men back to the dark ages.” You joke, holding the plate out for Joel to take a glass, which he does gladly, neither him nor Tommy enjoying Shane’s homebrewed beer much by the looks of it.

You hand Tommy the plate once he’s taken his own glass, “Didn’t Sarah always used to say the same thing?” Tommy asked, Joel nods in agreement, “Somethin’ about being cavemen.”

You laugh and leave them to it, heading back to the table where Maria and Ellie are talking together. As you sit down you can tell that Ellie is attempting (and failing) to get Maria to let her try her wine.

“You don’t want this, trust me,” You smirk, sitting down on the chair next to her, “I’ve been drinking my entire life and it’s already going to my head.”

You make polite conversation around the table for a little while until Tommy is walking towards you with a plate full of grilled meat. He sets it down before he sits down next to his wife, Joel taking the other unoccupied chair opposite you. Within moments, plates are full and you’re all eating in silence.

Joel watches you intently as you cut a slice of steak. He watches as your eyes close and your head tilts back a little until a little groan falls from your mouth. He can’t stop his brain from thinking how much he’d like to be the one making your eyes close and your head tilt back like that. God, he really was getting old if a singular glass of whiskey had him thinking like this. He drags his gaze from you back to his own plate of food, so you don’t catch the darkening of his eyes.

“Tommy, Jesus Christ, I haven’t had steak like this in so long.” You’re praising his brother, breaking off a slice of bread to dip into the dripping that’s come from the resting steak.

Everyone is silent as you make your way through the rest of the meal. Once you’ve all eaten your fill there’s less left that you thought there would be, everyone obviously making the most of the rare luxury of meat.

Ellie insists that although you’re all fit to burst, you have to try a slice of apple pie and you’re thankful you did. She’d done an absolutely fantastic job of it on her own and you couldn’t help the swell of your heart as she’d grinned when you told her it was just as good as the one you’d made together, backed up by everyone else around the table.

Maria and Ellie do the dishes together, packaging up leftovers for everyone to take home with them for the next day as Joel and Tommy start a small fire on the grass of your garden in a small drum that you don’t dare ask where he got it from. You tell Ellie about your days camping with your dad, toasting marshmallows and getting sticky when you tried to pull it off the toasting stick.

You drink whiskey for the first time in ages as you swap stories across the fire and you can’t help but smile. You love this little bunch of people, the five of them, sat around, keeping you company, making everything seem just that little bit easier.

You glance to your left a little while later, Ellie is asleep, resting her head on her hand. The conversation has lulled a little, Maria and Tommy are holding each other’s hands, glancing at Ellie too.

“I think I’m ready to call it a night,” Maria speaks, “We’ll take Ellie back to yours Joel, you stay here and finish your drink.”

He’s just poured himself another glass of whiskey from the bottle and is cradling it in his impossibly large hands. He nods, gently waking Ellie to tell her that Maria and Tommy will walk her home and he’ll be back soon once he finishes his drink. She doesn’t argue, standing up with a yawn.

“Thanks for today,” She says to you, bending down to your chair to give you a quick hug, “I’m glad you liked the pie.”

You smile at her and say that you hope you’ll see her soon, bidding her a goodnight. She gives Joel a hug too, telling him not to stay out too late because he’s an old man. He snorts but agrees he won’t stay long.

Maria and Tommy also give you a hug, insisting that you stay put instead of standing. And then they’re all gone and it’s just you and Joel sat around the fire. It’s quiet, the silent never uncomfortable between the two of you.

“Can I ask a question?” You ask quietly, once the silence becomes too much, looking down at the glass of whiskey in your hands.

The fire is warm, even if its flames have died down. It’s casting a gentle orange glow across Joel’s features which makes him look soft, even more welcoming than normal.

“Of course you can.” He replies, sipping his own drink.

“How long did it take for you to feel okay again?” You can’t look him in the eye, can’t look at him altogether, it’s a personal question, one you never thought you’d feel okay asking, but the wine and whiskey have made you brave, “You know, after Sarah?”

He’s silent for a long time. Long enough that you wonder if you’ve upset him. You’re about to open your mouth to apologise for overstepping a line when he speaks, “It wasn’t time that did it,” He answers, thinking back to the last time he’d said those words, it’s still true, “It’s more about what I found that made it easier.”

You’re running a finger around the rim of your glass trying to distract yourself but you can feel his eyes on you, “It never goes away, not really,” He sighs, “Not to make you feel even worse about things, but it shrinks a little, until you can remember all the good things about that person, instead of how much it hurts that you don’t have them anymore.”

“What was it like for you?” You look at him now and fuck he’s pretty. No amount of grief would deny the way your stomach flipped when you see him in this moment. The flickering orange light of the flame illuminating the shadows of his face, his eyes are darker than normal, and you think you might just drown yourself in them if you look any longer, “What was your grief like?” You look away, trying to ignore the lump in your throat.

You watch as he leans his elbow on the arm of the chair, resting his fingers on his mouth as if he’s contemplating what to say to you, “I couldn’t see the point of life without her anymore,” He speaks softly, “Sarah was gone, the world was gone, so what was I still doin’ here, you know?” You nod, because you do know. You know all too well. “In those first few days after I tried to kill myself,” You let in a sharp inhale of breath, which he doesn’t acknowledge, “I was ready, I wasn’t scared, but I flinched, and for twenty years I always wondered why. Why did I flinch when I pulled that trigger?” He’s silent again for a while and you want to reach out and offer your hand to him, but again, you don’t, you keep it in your own lap, “I guess what I’m tryin’ to say is that it won’t always break your heart, but I think you already know that,” You nod in agreement as you close your eyes, “You’ve just gotta find the next thing worth livin’ for.”

You want to tell him you’re sorry, but when had that ever helped you? No amount of sorry from anyone was going to bring your respective people back. You’d always thought that saying sorry was a cop out anyway. Something someone said when they didn’t know what else to say, so you didn’t.

“You know, it never even crossed my mind.” You muse, mostly to yourself than anything else.

“What didn’t?”

“Killing myself,” You reply almost immediately, “I think now that it would have been the easiest thing, I could have been with him, I wouldn’t have been here to listen to everyone gossip about me, I wouldn’t have spent a year of my life practically locked in my house, but it never once crossed my mind.”

“You wanna know what I think?” He asks, watching you as you nod, “I think that’s because deep down you knew you’d be okay, whether you realized it or not,” He’s reaching for the nearly empty bottle of whiskey to top his glass up, “I know it hurts, sweet pea, trust me, but you’ll know what love is again someday.”

It’s such a striking thing for him to say that it catches you completely off guard. Outside of the handful of times this evening that you’ve caught yourself thinking of how utterly beautiful a man Joel Miller is, you’ve never thought about finding someone else. Mark was meant to be your one and only, you’ve vowed to each other that was the case, signed your names on a piece of paper to the same effect. ‘Til death us do part. It’s silly but when you’d uttered those words to Mark, you’d always imagined dying together. Old age, hands held, drifting off together. In reality it hadn’t been old age, but you’d held hands, right until the bitter end, but then you were left here, all alone, and he was gone.

“You know those romantic movies we used to watch before?”

“You used to watch.” He interrupts, a small smile on his face.

“Alright, those romantic movies I used to watch,” You let out a little giggle, “Whenever someone died before their time, they would inevitably get just the right amount of time to tell the person they loved that they wanted to move on?” Joel nods that he knows what you’re talking about, “I guess I’ve always thought I needed his permission, not really just to find someone else, but to move on and live my life again.”

“Did you need his permission for much when he was around?” He asks.

You shake your head, “He was always so laid back, even when we were on our own out of the quarantine zones, we were a team, but we understood each other, understood what we both needed, so no, not really.”

Joel speaks without a pause, “Then you just need to ask yourself for permission then.”

Silence falls between you both again. You’re staring at the flames in front of you and draining your glass of whiskey. It was never your favourite, you didn’t like the way it burnt on your tongue or the feeling of it settling in your stomach, but like anything in this world, it was the case of any port in a storm. Joel follows suit and drains the last of his drink.

“I should really be gettin’ back,” He speaks softly, “But thank you, for today, it’s been one of the nicest days I can remember.”

You both stand up, Joel taking the empty glasses and you taking hold of the whiskey bottle with the last bit of amber liquid in the bottom. He walks in front, stopping to drop the glasses in the sink which you insist you’ll wash up yourself. You set the whiskey bottle on the side and follow him to the front door.

He pauses before he can turn the handle and open the door and you wonder what’s going on. Joel is the kind of man who is always sure of his actions, never falters, but his hand is outstretched and he’s not moving. You’re leant against the wall on one shoulder at the bottom of the stairs that lead to the top floor of your house when he turns back around to you.

“I think he’d want you to be happy, sweet pea,” He breathes, “You have too much love in here to not give it to anyone else.” His fingertips are brushing the space between your breasts where your heart is, and you wonder when he got so fucking close to you.

You look up and he’s looming over you, those beautiful brown eyes looking directly through yours and into your soul. His hands are cupping your cheeks. Those rough and calloused palms are warm against your skin which had cooled in the evening air. You can’t quite believe it but you’re tilting your face up towards him and he’s leaning his down towards yours and before you know it, his lips are pressed to yours so softly you might cry. You can sense his hesitation but as your eyes flutter closed, you’re pushing yourself onto your toes to press your lips more firmly to his.

And then it all comes crashing over you. The moment you close your eyes, it’s not Joel’s face in your mind, it’s Mark’s. It’s his hands cupping your face, they were softer than Joel’s. It was hit scent you could remember through your nostrils, not the smoke and musk you could smell of Joel. Your hands are fisting the lapels of his jacket as you pull away, pulling in a sigh as he rests his forehead against yours before pulling himself away. He’s still close enough that your hands are still on his jacket, but he’s dropped his hands from his face.

“I’m sorry, Joel,” You whisper, shaking your head, “I can’t.” Is what you murmur.

He drops his head and steps back from you, making your hands drop from his jacket, he’s turning on his heel and heading to the door with a mumbled apology.

“Joel!” You call out before he has chance to shut the door behind him, he turns and faces you, “I’m not saying never,” You confess, “Just not right now.”

You watch as a flash of hope appears on his face and he’s giving you that signature lop-sided smile, “I’ll wait, sweet pea.” And then he’s gone.

It’s late and Joel can’t sleep. He’s been tossing and turning since he got into bed an hour ago, replaying the events of the evening in his mind. He’s trying to blame his irrational choice to kiss you on the whiskey, but he knows it isn’t true. Every day he’s seen you since you sat down and ate strawberry pie together, he’s wanted to kiss you. Wanted to kiss the sadness and the grief out of your body and put you back together again. It had nothing to do with the whiskey and everything to do with you.

The way you’d asked him about his own grief, so quiet and unsure as to whether you were overstepping a line. The way you’d listened to him talk about wanting to end everything but didn’t offer an apology or the look in your eyes that told him you felt sorry for him. The way that every time he spoke to you, you opened up a little bit more, let him in a little more. Hell, even the way you’d winced at every mouthful of whiskey. It was all you. And it had been a dumb fucking decision.

He could hear the break in your voice as you’d told him you couldn’t, like you were afraid of letting him down. He couldn’t stop thinking about how you’d said, ‘Just not right now’ and his stupid smile at your words. He didn’t want to push your boundaries this much, didn’t want you to think you owed him anything. He just wanted to make you less miserable.

He runs a hand over his face and grumbles to himself. He knows sleep won’t find him now. His head won’t shut up and all he really wants to do is run to your front step and tell you he’s sorry, that you don’t have to make him feel better by telling him to wait if you don’t mean it. He’ll never forget the spark of electricity down his spine when your lips touched him, or how he craved to push his whole body against yours when your hands had pulled at the lapel of his jacket, but he doesn’t need you to feel like you must want him back.

If only he knew that you were led in your own bed, a few streets over, in a similar state of insomnia. Led in your bed, staring up at the ceiling, wishing that Mark’s face hadn’t been at the forefront of your mind when you’d closed your eyes. That’s what does it, what fills your body with panic. That you wished for the first time that you didn’t think about him. You’d wanted it to be all Joel, consumed by him, you didn’t want Mark’s face in the back of your mind.

Tears roll down your cheeks and onto your pillow. Your brain is telling you that soon enough he won’t be there. You keep wishing he wasn’t, and he won’t be, you’ll forget about him, forget the shape of his body against yours, the sound of his voice in your ear, and surely that’s not right. Surely you should always want to remember him. Your first love, your first everything, really.

Joel was a good man. One of the best you’d ever had the pleasure of knowing, and he didn’t deserve someone who wasn’t able to give their all, someone who would always close their eyes and see their dead husband. You couldn’t make him wait for you, but could you let him go? Could you let Joel go? The man who had fixed your rotted porch step just because he didn’t want you to hurt yourself. The man who didn’t push you for insight into your grief, just stood there and let you be, letting you share when you were ready. The man who had been through the same kind of loss as you and had been walking around for the last twenty years knowing he failed at ending it all.

You run a hand over your face and decide that no, you couldn’t let him walk away, but you weren’t quite ready to let someone in like that. You needed to speak to him, to lay all your cards on the table for once, and that scared the shit out of you. It was time to put your big girl pants on and face the music.

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elegantduelliste · 3 months

Text

Epistles of Saints & Sinners

Chapter Summary:

Astarion makes an offer to Tav, later succumbing to his hunger.

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Story Summary:

When Astarion meets the humble bard, Tav, he soon finds out he's the only one between them that knows they are bound as soulmates through their marks. Deciding it's more trouble than its worth, he refuses to tell her along the course of their journey across Faerûn.

But, unbeknownst to him and their companions, Tav is harboring a gruesome secret that she only thought was nothing more than a traumatized period in her life.

As they both come to face to face with their pasts and presents, will they choose to move forward or let it consume them?

Healing isn’t linear—after all.

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Chapter 3: Thirst

Ao3

Next Chapter

Previous Chapter

Main Page & Chapter List

Word Count: 7k

Pairing: Astarion x female bard Tav

CW: Sexually Explicit Language, Blood, Act 1 Spoilers

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He loved her right away. Her smile. Her creativity. Her heart most of all. He told her he used to have dreams about a woman before he met her, one fitting her description. It seemed like fate when they finally met. They both shared the same affinity for music. When he wrote her a love letters in the first few months of their courtship, he knew she would be his. She thought someone finally understood her. 10 years of a life together. 10 years of the dual natured beast that would wound. 10 years of love and honey of the cycle in between. Until she was numb.

— Evenlit (mother of Tavelle), diary entry 523

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“Ah, my favorite traveling companion, do you have a moment to, well—chat?” Astarion’s voice was less theatrical—more thoughtful—than usual as he saddled up next to the bard.

The crew had been traveling on foot again since early morning, deciding not to veer from their previous path. Searching for any signs that could point them in the direction of a healer that could excavate the worms inside their brains.

Tav nodded to Gale and Shadowheart, gesturing them to travel ahead, sensing Astarion needed privacy. The wizard shot her a prudent look under the guise of respecting her quarry to speak with the pallored elf alone.

Astarion didn’t strike her as the kind of man that would revisit a situation once he was rejected. No, he didn’t even seem wounded. Presumably, he would continue to carry on—his pretty lips sheen with dialogue prepped for the next casualty.

Sure, it seemed suspicious enough, but if he had already moved on from their ordeal in the temple, there was no reason she should continue to dwell on their—misunderstanding.

Still, there was an awkwardness Tav buried behind her faint smile and neutral eyes. The want to restrict the memory of a foretoken graze of his willowy hands.

As Tav finally regarded him—her thoughts still flickering back to their time in the ruins—she met the garnet of his vision with caution, a gasp stuck in her throat as he stepped closer. The sun’s beams creating a halo around the feathery wisps of his curls, presented Tav with the imagery of an angel that had flown down from the heavens to gather her into his arms. Back arched, pecking along the top of her bosom: a holy sacrament that could convert her to him.

Thy will be done.

Her mouth felt dry. “Of course.”

Their boots slowed, equally matching each other’s footsteps in the dusty loam of the earth. Astarion stared ahead of them, his vision fixed on their two companions, likely watching their distance.

“To be quite frank, I read our little predicament wrong yesterday and took advantage of it without due respect to you. I’m sure that seems a bit odd coming from the likes of someone like me—considerate as I am—but I think we got off on the wrong foot." He absentmindedly scratched his neck. "I suppose even a charlatan like myself can get it wrong sometimes."

Tav was skeptical of his accountability that seemed less than straight-laced. But, it did dawn on her that she may have misjudged a few circuits that intersect within his heart. That, yes, while he seemed to live submerged in coquettish self interest, in this moment of letting her walls down just enough to scramble through some of the thickets of his inner mechanisms, he may be showing an ounce of authenticity.

Yet, there is an element to the contrition of her heart that she dare not speak. To utter it with a covetous breath would mean to give it truth. That while she seduced her thoughts of being filled in ways she had never known within the margins of a romantic relationship, that she was terrified to completely expose herself to another.

Astarion was indubitably beautiful, charming, and humorous. But, beyond those surfaces, she sought connection—maybe just enough to avoid more conflicting emotions to sow. In the minutes, hours, weeks she could stand, she knew love could be cutthroat and messy. Its afflictions: hail and brushfire, a constant bickering. She was unsure if she could ever love or be physically intimate in the way of it crossing the universe again.

The risk was so very grave. No matter the man present in her life, her interests must remain just that—interests.

For she, too, spits the saliva of the devil’s lies to guard the silly thing that is her heart.

“It isn’t as if I told you to halt as soon as it happened. I think we were both caught up in the moment and lust can be a powerful drug.” Her voice was so sickeningly gentle and candid with him.

“Is that a confession?” The man teased.

The songstress jokingly rolled her eyes. “Pfft. Hardly! Astarion, I am 91 years old. You are scarcely the first to try and seduce me.” She looked at him earnestly. “I’m sorry I let it go as far as it did; I have no desire to lead you on. I am attracted to you—gods, how couldn’t I be—but I...”

A silent awareness of their near intimate rush within the dank crypt walls hung thick in the air. Of the primal urge that can arise during traumatic events. The need to rake nails down another’s back. Foreheads slick with sweat. The smell of salt and sex in the air. To live inside one another’s flesh.

The impact of surviving: release.

He crossed his arms. “Enlighten me then. What is it that you’re seeking?”

Tav stayed silent. The truth crippled her heart. She didn’t even know if she believed such a concept existed anymore, belonging solely to romantic folklores of lovers supping droughts of poisons—to meet one another again in the afterlife.

Astarion searched her face. “Something you think I’m incapable of?”

“I think it is something you’re not accustomed to,” she answered flatly.

“Then, it wouldn’t hurt to aid me with a hint. At the very least to prove you correct.”

Silver tongues belonged to silver serpents. And, this may be a game for him. But, self preservation could be the royal quandary of boundaries and she had already revealed enough. The vulnerability was there, ripe for the winnow of another’s cup, but she couldn’t bear it. Not yet.

A quietness slipped between her lips, the storm of her optics solemn. “…we do not know each other adequately yet.”

Astarion held his chin between his fingers, deep in thought. He reminded her of a scholar that endlessly agonized over scripts with his rumpled skin set amidst two silvery brows.

“Hmm. Tav, you’re really overthinking this. What I am offering—and desire, mind you—is a distraction. A short term fling to take us away from all this madness we’ve found ourselves in. But, if you prefer a less invasive course: what about friendship?”

“Annnnd, if you find yourself wanting that distraction, the offer will always be available,” he added amusedly with a quick wink.

The bard couldn’t help but laugh loudly. “You’ll be the first gentleman I’ll call upon in that case then! But, as for a friendship with you…I’d like that. A lot, in fact.”

Astarion ceased his steps, placing a hand on his hip, while the other crossed over his chest. He narrowed his eyes, mouth perfectly molded into that of the trickster.

“This whole conversation has been enlightening. In the spirit of ‘friendship’ and since we have gotten those unpleasant decrees out of the way, I believe this requires a bit of a reintroduction. My name is Astarion. I was a magistrate back in Baldur’s Gate. I enjoy a needle and thread, gilded chalices, and whatever other indulgences I can sink my teeth into. And you?”

And there was that darling blush creeping up the tenderness of her neck anew.

With all that hubris, Tav was amazed his head didn’t inflate thrice its size. Still, she played along, not discounting the potential for this being a gateway for better camaraderie.

A huff accompanied a subtle smile. “My name is Tavelle, but Tav is generally preferred by most. I was a traveling bard. I lived in Baldur’s Gate for the past year before the mind flayers came. I enjoy reading, a fine glass of bourbon, and the art of sword-fighting.”

“A bard? My, my. I’m sure the patriars just adored you, darling! To live in the Gate for that amount of time without winding up on the streets with folded hands begging for coin or between the sheets of some foolish braggart that doesn’t deserve your affections, warrants much more credit than I afforded you earlier,” he appraised her wryly.

Tav giggled coyly. She observed the high elf momentarily permitting himself to study the lifting of her own crinkling vision, down to the demure smile she flashed him.

“It seems you’ve misjudged me sir magistrate. A lady never reveals how she’s managed to work the entire city fawning over her! Though, I will say, it surely isn’t because of anything I’ve worked towards. I shudder to think I have any actual real prowess worth speaking about,” Tav bantered back sarcastically.

Bantering was not her typical forte. She had a quirky sense of humor about her, albeit a bit dark at times—she certainly wouldn’t consider herself to be an expert in the art of wit—but Astarion was bringing this side of her to light out of the blue. It was fun. Playful. An escape of sugary and sour amusements reserved for them alone. She couldn’t get enough.

“And where, my dear, has all this surprisingly sharp humor clawed its way out of? You’re typically so quiet of nature. Who knew our songbird had so much to say!” The way his mirth emerged itself when he bared his teeth to her in a dashing simper, caused her heart to skip a beat.

He tilted his head and grinned more broadly, as if there were an inside joke he had immediately recalled. Like he had heard the hiccup of her bloody organ.

“I may be introverted, but that doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy talking to others. Especially if it’s someone as charming as youuuu.” Another melody of a titter, her eyes so exceptionally spirited.

They both laughed.

Stepping closer to him, her fingers twiddled with the thrown plait of dark ash brown over her shoulder. She casted her steely blue gaze downward before raising them to his face, the lower portion of her lip bitten in thought.

“Thank you for speaking with me and trying to understand. Truly.”

Bong! The bell’s toll striked and the hunt began. With teeth real sharp and a charming grin.

Tav noticed his pupils tracked her teeth wedged into the soft plush of her lip as he swallowed gradually. ”Hmm? Yes, of course. Now as much as I’d enjoy teasing you relentlessly for the rest of the day, we should probably get moving.”

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As eventide washed over the land, the party decided on a night of respite before their visit to the Grove. Now aided by the addition of Lae’zel, the githyanki warrior, their dreadful circumstance had become notably strenuous. Two wary tiefling guards from a place called Druid's Grove, had captured her in a cage, frightened of the havoc she may cause. Her claim to have access to an apparatus that could rectify their tadpoles was a chance they could not all agree would be worth investigating, but Tav insisted they listen to the information she volunteered, offering her space within their elusive band.

However, she did not mince words once they were around the comforting light of their nightly fire. The flames cast a glow of saffron and tangelo reflecting onto the group’s complexions, bathing them in balmy heat. The cleric and warrior were standing, their voices irritable. Arms crossed. Round green eyes narrowed on darker buttery skin. Razor teeth gritted—ready to spit.

“My people possess a cure for this infection. We will interrogate this Zorru at the Grove about where he saw my kin. Unless you wish to sacrifice yourself to ghaik?” She was irrefutable in her credence, hellbent on reaching the githyanki crèche she deduced was nearby.

“Tav, she sees your kindness as a weakness. She will exploit it,” Shadowheart warned, pointing a finger at the gith.

Astarion slid past them, finding Tav sitting atop a massive piece of driftwood log by the fire. Her doublet was unbuckled, revealing a thin cream linen shirt underneath, tied lazily near her neckline. Relaxed and humming a whimsical tune, she had been pulling the last of her plait out while she ignored the two women arguing.

She did not greet Astarion, instead, resigning to a serene smile with a faint sprinkling of pink upon her skin as he watched her focus on running her fingers through her tangles. Even when his lissome form sat down beside her, her fingers unknotting a snag, she still held the same expression.

Until out of nowhere, her voice caught him off guard, puncturing through the air between them. “Good evening, magistrate.”

Oh, did he ever bask in hearing the use of his former job title as if he still held a position of power. A fantasy of Tav pecking the coolness of his knuckles in reverence. “You’re not a monster, Astarion,” she’d whisper. The sly minx. He twitched in his pants.

He bent down, his breath brisk against the point of her ear, inhaling the scent of natural oils from her hair. He was automatically taken back to their short affair inside the temple as he watched her skin prickle. Part of a plan failed, but not lost.

“Lae’zel is delightful. In a very ‘look at me twice and I’ll dismember you’ kind of way—of course,” he whispered.

Tav dramatically scoffed. Her hand drifted next to his bicep, placing it reservedly on him. She was climbing, climbing, climbing up, spreading her warmth over the sleeve of his jacket. It was seeping through—she was seeping through. Her lips were a mellow heat and soft hush near his lobe. “Sounds like a challenge, Astarion. You have my support. Don’t let her get away!”

He modestly turned his head at the precise moment she descended from his ear to see her bottom lip swiftly bitten in a carefree beam. The same as she had done during their earlier conversation.

But, if he lifted the frail veil over her face, would he find her lips murmuring in prayer for him? For his cuspids to glide across her soft flesh. Mouth open and wet. On your knees, sweetheart. I will save you.

Then, there was a hunger present. A vivid thought of his teeth, latching onto that same part of her lip. Licking. Sucking. Kneading. His cock half erect. Until he bites into it and…

He cleared his throat, forcing the impure fantasy to subside, begging whatever divine beings that would consent to listen to not let their mind worms connect at that precise moment. If he didn’t gain momentum on the aching thirst he felt, everything would be lost.

Astarion leaned in closer, one of his longer curls unfurling, brushing against the side of her forehead like a feather landing in a dusting of snow. He delivered another punchline within distance of her temple. “You wretch. How could I ever say no?!”

Then, his voice was a purr. A final insert, one that neither the gods nor he can help himself but to taste on his tongue. “Though, quite recently, I’ve found my attention has been fixated on the enjoyment of wordplay with a friend.”

He could feel Tav shift nervously at his side, removing her hand calmly from him, folding it with the other in her lap. She turned her head halfway, peering over towards where Gale had been cooking their evening meals. There was a plume of flush resonating from her neck to her cheeks, contrasting against the ivory tone of her skin that sent a devil’s smirk on his lips.

All was not lost, after all, he thought.

“Gale appears overwhelmed. I should probably offer my help,” she muttered considerably, without acknowledging Astarion further.

Tav stood, placing the length of her wavy locks to hang like a waterfall down her back. She drifted towards the other side of the flames. Astarion watched her stroll towards the wizard, hips swaying like branches in the night’s breeze. Those same hips that were only inches away from him a few moments ago: inviting and wide.

Astarion leisurely rose, walking back to his tent to procure a bottle of a long forgotten red and a dingy goblet. He could overhear Tav and Gale discussing plans to prepare a suitable meal for their entourage with items from the packs they had picked through.

Gale appeared quite accustomed to cooking, skilled in frying meats to that perfect amount of crisp—or at least he had boasted. He passed along an enticing grin with a wiggle of his eyebrows towards Tav when he flipped a piece of sliced sausage midair and it landed right back in its starting position.

Tav beamed, "I see you are a man of many talents. Please never ask me to cook food so acrobatically for you. I promise it will not end well.”

“I fear, after this, I may have unofficially put myself in the position of ‘Camp Cook’ for our group. Food tricks and all. Though, let us resign from asking Lae’zel to help with food prep. I fear she’d insist on using that massive sword of hers on a poor tomato.”

“Not to worry, Gale. We’ll be sure to find you an apron and embroider your new title upon it so that everyone knows what you’re truly here for.” Tav appeared at his side, teasingly patting his arm.

Astarion cocked his brow, casting a sneer towards the two chefs before taking a large sip from an matured cup of wine. He disappeared behind the flap of red linen to change into a set of clothes that were more casual.

Folded neatly on his bedroll was an old ruffled shirt. Beloved and cared for over a long period of time. Multiple tears were visible, but each was stitched up with such precision, one would have thought they were graced with the surgical deftness of a doctor. Removing his intricately detailed black coat, he carefully put the shirt over his torso and rolled the length of his sleeves up to his elbows—a particular piece of flair he added over an age.

This shirt was one of the few things that belonged to him in some fashion. When it was handed over to him as a “gift,” Astarion was aware that he would receive no other unless his behavior was considered favorable. For he would never be glorified for his contributions to his “family.” No, his tears were the sapid dessert that he demanded.

"Ungrateful boy. Your sobs will serve as my music tonight. Now bend over and cast your eyes to the hells for want of a contract with a hellion that will never save you from the flay."

Astarion crossed his arms over his chest, holding himself. A chilled sweat trickled down his forehead. Four walls baked in musk and blood: the kennels. His usual practiced breaths, gasping and erratic. He felt light-headed, needing to escape. His head started to scream louder than a harpy’s screech.

Yet, her mellifluous voice was sneaking into his ears, smoking out the curse that haunted him. Swirling around his body, protecting him, tugging him towards the source.

“Astarion. Astarion? Are you okay?!” Tav called out to him in concern.

He ran his fingers through his curls. Steady. Slow. The fabric walls of his tent come back into view.

Then, the roguish rake scratched its way back up his throat. “Ah, my sweet songbird! To think you left your handsome wizard to come sauntering all the way over here to look for me. You must be looking for refinement after all!”

He opened the flap to his tent dramatically like a ringmaster inviting patrons into a circus.

Only, when he stepped out to face the bard whose voice granted him redemption, her appearance was perturbed.

Tav appeared sickly, like the blood had been drained from her upper body. A visible worry inscribed into the fine lines by her nose. She stood still. Lifted her arm. Then, opened and closed her hand several times as if she wanted to reach out to touch him before deciding to rescind it entirely.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude. I thought you were hurt. Your breathing…I thought I heard you in pain.” A tiny bit of breath left her mouth as if she were relieved. “Dinner is ready. I’ll give you time to collect yourself and head back.”

The spawn bowed his head in her direction. “I assure you, I am fine. Run along; I’ll be right behind you.”

And then her smile was suddenly the first day of Spring. “You better or I will drag you over there!”

Precious angelic lark. Do not despair. Your wings will serve as the gateway for those that capture you.

Astarion wondered if he had chosen wrong.

No. He was rarely—if ever—wrong about his targets. Tav just presented more of a challenge. Had he not succumbed to the numbness he enacted to conserve what was left of his mental state long ago, guilt may have plagued the bits of humanity he plummeted away from Cazador.

She did possess a certain loveliness to her. Not in the way of grand belles he’d bedded in the past, but one that’s described in poesy passages of endearing semi-guileless women, whose beauty shines through beyond being skin deep. Anyone would be a damned fool to think otherwise. But, an intangible hole existed inside her beating elvish heart that had not yet fully healed. Only, the path to her is strewn with meteors and fragile stars. An unanticipated detail overlooked, one he did not predict as he tried to lure her in the ruins with the aphrodisiacs' of his actions.

He sighed. Had this been one of his usual haunts on the streets of Baldur’s Gate, with less time to devote to his victim, he could easily capture another with memorized lines and rehearsed “fuck me eyes.” All he knew were the instincts of a man that seduced centuries worth of people, using his body to be the prostitute his master commanded.

Where Tav was involved, simply uttering honeyed speeches or licking an oath of exiled pleasures she had never experienced in a stripe along her slit, would not be enough.

But, what of trust?

Ah. Now trust carried power. However, the caveat to such an assured reliance was the privilege of obtaining it. Trust gleaned through lust was manageable. But, trust through measures of safekeeping another’s hope and beliefs came with greater transactions.

If this songbird meant to be Astarion’s silver lining, then he would make her sing.

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

Their lifeblood waits for you.

“Astarion, I don’t believe I’ve seen you eat a single morsel since you’ve been with us. You must be hungry? Here, there’s plenty to go around.” Gale brought the skillet over, sliding a portion of the food onto the remaining plates as the high elf approached.

You’re hungry.

He peeked over at the food sardonically. “As scrumptious as I’m sure—whatever all that—probably is, I will have to...decline. I have other sources of food stowed away. Regardless, you have my thanks.”

Starving.

Gathered around the campfire, they finished their meals while listening to Lae’zel speak about her crèche, K’liir, in the Tears of Selûne. Astarion couldn’t be less interested. He had no real family to speak of anymore—not that he remembered them—probably perishing many moons ago as it were. And the only place he called home, was the necrotic palace encased in stone towering over the lower city of Baldur’s Gate: where dreams of a life go to wither.

”Your path is paved in blood. Your body does not belong to you. It was created to tempt. It is food created for anyone that craves it. Fuck your prick into anything that wants it. Your lips to press to whatever rotted or young flesh that desires it. You will never be anything more.”

Astarion refocused, nursing a goblet of wine as he leaned back against the log he had previously sat on with Tav. He caught the jovial expression on her face as she focused on each of them as they spoke—primarily that obtuse magician. The fucking gall of that wizard. I bet he gloated about his ‘mage hand’ all evening.

Blood. You need to feed.

He needed to distract her. To cull her affections and isolate them on this farce of a relationship, ill-conceived by his want to survive.

Her. Your fangs want to be inside her, tearing at her throat. To taste the aurora of her voice as her blood warms you.

“Tav, dearest, why don’t you sing us a song from that arsenal of ballads you keep in that pretty little head of yours?”

The bard perked up, turning towards Astarion, her blue-gray depths wide as a doe. She was one of the moving pieces on the chessboard he satiated himself with.

Take her.

Though his request seemed innocent enough, the slithering leer of his gape seemed to make her feel abashed by the way she regarded him with her stare. This was all part of his cunning gambit of word wrestling they had begun to establish. And she knew what he was doing—of course she had to know. Astarion had the gumption to detect that she was conscious, but still uncertain, if he had only meant to tease her—to see her nonplussed in the moment—or if there laid an alternative motive to the glint of his impish smirk.

Her rosy lips parted slightly, a paltry excuse upon her tongue. “My lute perished in the crash.”

“Come now, it is not your lute that beguiles your audience with its voice. Do not keep us waiting, friend,” he winked, ushering her forward with a flamboyant wave of his hand.

Hunt her.

Tav does not argue. Perhaps to avoid further complications of the night or maybe because she recognized her talents had the ability to bring about a halcyon wave to their troubled comrades.

Though, as the first few notes she gifted to them uncurl like clear bells on silver tinsel, decorating the reticence of the camp, her audience was now hers to command.

Taste her.

Her voice was ethereal, knitting together a story through the eyes of a traveler discovering fealty to happiness itself. She sang as if she were a holy entity within a chapel alone. The poetry of her words, the flames that would light the candles to the gods.

The winds spun around them, carrying her tune in ripples. Confidently, her eyes passed over to Astarion with a radiant warmth; he was motionless. As she reached a fluttering note, the bluish vein of her white satiny neck—a visible interference—caused an unexpected delirium.

Yes. Her blood will be the sweetest.

She had managed to do the impossible and hypnotize him entirely.

He had to have her. Just a taste.“Magistrate, please bite me.”

She’s yours. She’s yours. She’s yours.

The thrumming of his soul mate mark was a tittering of butterfly wings behind his ear. Astarion touched the sensitive area, crimson view darkened. Tonight. Tonight he would damn himself and be set free.

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

”I love you, birdie,” he breathed into the nape of Tav’s neck.

The sunlight had just broken through with the dawn, casting illuminating golden beams onto their naked bodies. They were entangled with one another. Limbs thrown over limbs. Algos, her lover, spooning against her back. Pale and ruddy against his farmer’s tan.

He moved her cool brown locks away from her neck, placing a tender kiss near her hairline.

“Mmm. You spoil me,” she sighed lovingly.

“Not nearly enough.” He grabbed her chin, pulling it towards him.

Tav turned onto her side. She trailed her fingers daintily up his arm, then to the soft skin around orbs of near obsidian that were his eyes. If only she could freeze this moment. Collect it in a bottle and bury it within herself so the details, this exact moment, would never shift.

She scooted closer to him, the weight of her breasts hanging off to the side squishing them together. Her lips so soft, pliant, pressing to his own. They were slightly chapped, but doughy. The dreamiest of exhales left her nostrils.

He leaned in to kiss her back. One peck after the other, along her jaw, her chin. An amorous embrace accompanied by the heat of his breath kindling her neck again.

“Taste me, Algos.”

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

Astarion hovered over Tav as she awoke. His mouth wide open, crisp air caressing her neck. His lips receded past their gums with teeth a pearly sheen in the light of the candle she had lit inside her tent.

“...Shit.” He cursed.

Her eyes opened wide in confusion, watching Astarion swiftly backing away from her. She was furious. “What the FUCK are you doing?! Explain. NOW.”

Tav grabbed the rapier she kept at her side while she tranced and brought her wobbly self up to nearly her full height without hitting the tent's ceiling. Her body’s temperature was still cool from resting, leaving her partially disoriented. She was dressed in nothing, except her smalls and a gauzy linen shirt that barely reached past her bottom.

“No, it’s not what it looks like! I swear. I’ve never killed anyone—at least for food. I wasn’t going to hurt you!” He was crouching, his hands up in surrender.

There was a disbelieving scoff she hissed out. “No?! Do not play these games with me Astarion! I am not an idiot. It looked like you were either going to bite me or assault me. I will run this rapier right through your ribs if you don’t leave immediately!” She pointed it towards him aggressively.

His voice was an octave above a shaking whisper, rounded eyes staring at her shamefully. “Wait, please! I just needed—blood. For food. I’m far weaker than I’d like to acknowledge. It’s pathetic.”

Then, when he altered his weight onto his other hip, the fine lines around his mouth having grown from their stressful interaction—she finally noticed. His lustrous teeth had sharp fangs, one on each side in place of a human’s usual canines. His pallid color looked even more unnatural than she paid attention to previously. The bluish hue bags of his eyes, a bit darker—presumably from lack of food.

A slave to his sanguine hunger.

Her voice was suddenly breathy. And then, as quietly as she could manage, she fanned out an unsettling laugh. “A vampire. Of all the things…why didn’t you tell me?!”

Astarion opened his mind and bid Tav to connect with his tadpole. She saw it unfolding. He held back some of the pieces that fit into the jigsaw that was him, but then there was something hungry and on edge removing parts of himself he’d never get back. His mind opened further revealing quaking, ruptured memories of tyrannical eyes commanding him to eat the only creature he was allowed: rats. The connection dissipates.

“You were forced to eat them or else you would have to starve? By the gods, Astarion,” she heedfully replied, lowering the rapier and propping it against one of the tent walls.

Tav registered she’d wept a few tears when a salty one dipped into the cupid’s bow of her lips. The raw mental images he shared with her were intense. This was not what she had expected from him, regardless of him being a vampire or a mortal. Her heart ached for him and if she knew he would have allowed it, she would have pulled him into a hug, muttering that he was safe into the crown of his hair.

“I—yes. Whatever disgusting vermin my master picked. I hope this explains why I was slow to trust you,” he hesitated awkwardly, adjusting his stance to try and relax his arms at his side. “But, right now, I do trust you. And you can trust me too. I may be out of line in asking you to trust me further, but if I only had just a little blood, I could fight better and my mind would be clear. Please.”

Tav considered his proposal, the desperation in his presently softer accent. If she consented to him feeding from her, she ran the risk of him killing her—either on purpose or by accident if he cannot control his hunger. However, she cannot deny this may be one of the first times since they’ve interacted that he was being ethically truthful with her. That he is aware of the risks if he does take her life. There will no longer be the presumption of his security nor the help of removing their worms.

The decision to be made was dangerous; she would not have much time to decide for the sake of herself, Astarion, and their sordid companions.

“You wish to feed from me, correct? But, not my neck. Not yet, anyways. Not until I know you’ll abide by your words in the future. Because you know as well as I do, that you certainly have a way with them,” she unexpectedly jested. “Will my wrist suffice for now?”

Astarion nodded quizzically. “I would only need a taste and not a drop more. If I wind up with a stake in my heart, well, I probably had it coming,” he chuckled. “That being said, your wrist is more than fine. Shall we make ourselves comfortable?”

Tav shook her head to reaffirm her consent and proceeded to sit on top of her bedroll in a cross legged pose, her shirt resting high above her pale thighs. The rosy buds of her nipples had pebbled, poking through the shirt’s fabric. Her areolas, a delightful crepe pink, faintly visible in the light.

She scrunched up the left sleeve of the shirt revealing, not only her wrist, but the beginnings of a full tattoo from her forearm up the length of her bicep. There were a couple of birds resting on branches, chirping happily, surrounded by flowers and laurel leaves. A beautiful woman's face with a rapier in her hand, sat further up. The style would have been considered feminine by how delicate it appeared. All of the colors were muted reds, greens, and earthy tones that seemed to suit her—only adding to her natural beauty.

Astarion bent down to rest on his knees in front of her, the smooth leather of his pants tantalizingly grazing against her shins. She could feel him studying her figure, the ink on her arm. Then, he lingered on the shape of her breasts through her shirt, and back up to the flush that was spreading over her cheeks. He held out his arm towards her, his hand facing up.

“Whenever you’re ready.” His voice was soothing, humble even, gently inviting her to sacrifice herself to him.

May your blood be consecrated, the sacrament fulfilled. Waste not, want more. For you give yourself willingly for his power and nourishment. The gods be with you.

She extended her arm, first dropping her index finger into his palm, then tip-toeing the rest of her digits until her hand fully rested on his own. The glacial temperature of his skin flowed through her body entirely like titillating electricity. Tav bit back a moan when his other hand covered hers and moved up to the inside of her wrist, caressing the silky skin.

It had been years since she was touched so intimately by a man. The sensations with each movement of his fingertips rubbing circles into her skin, caused her to swallow down a gasp. Every instinctual nerve inside of her was at war, either to push him away to the far reaches of Faerûn or to offer her blood to the man that somehow made her feel virginal by the swipe of his lithe fingers across her palm.

“You’re trembling.”

“I’m nervous and you're cold,” Tav uttered with a shudder.

“Hmm.” Astarion continued massaging, occasionally feeling the throb of her pulse. “Where are you from originally? Your birth place.”

“Wha—the Dalelands,” she managed to answer.

“And which of your parents is a high elf?” He continued.

“My father. My mother is a wood elf. How did you know?

He smiled tenderly. “I could tell by your fair features.”

She tilted her head towards him. Was he trying to distract her? The efforts were working.

He lifted her wrist to his faded pink lips, placing them airily on the stretch of her visible veins. A chilled breath exhaled through his elegant nose. “Why did you move to Baldur’s Gate?

Arrhythmia started overtaking the organ in her chest. She fisted the edge of her shirt in her free hand, sighing heavily. “I needed a change of scenery: to start anew.”

Astarion pecked her wrist. A shallow gravel of his throat vibrated against her skin when he lightly started to suckle on the outline of her vein.

She cried out sweetly. Her chest swelled in tandem with the swift movements of her breathing, but not from the nervousness she thought would plague her stomach with knots. No, it was from the longing ache of skin to skin contact he had unknowingly granted her.

"Shhh. Shh. We wouldn't want to wake anyone now would we?" He lightly bit her finger in warning and then slid his tongue back up to her wrist.

Tav was wet. Considerably so. She felt the petals of her cunt drench in want the longer he prolonged his desires for her blood. It occurred to her that he may be waiting for her to give him the final confirmation for him to bite her, but oh hells, when she noticed his bulge straining in his pants, she conjured up a reverie of her climbing into his lap and grinding herself up and down his length begging for him to take her.

Astarion moaned into her wrist. He had trailed his left hand up to hold her elbow, while the right still held onto her hand—waiting patiently. Her clit was throbbing; she would have given anything to move even the slightest bit to feel pressure placed upon it. Any sort of relief to wash over her to abate the shivers of her flesh, to shake the image of him biting and sucking on her breasts.

Eyes half-lidded, she willed herself to speak. “Astarion?”

Rubbing the point of his fangs in contact with her flesh, his tone was huskier. “Yes, Tavelle?”

Dear Oghma grant mercy on this woman!

It had been the first time he had mentioned the full length of her name. And it was as clear as a magical forest revealing a trail to honeyed fruits she should not partake. What kind of man could be capable of appearing as both a divine creature and one that could lure her into the shadows?

Burning, burning, burning.

“Bite me.”

The sting of his fangs entering her wrist was like two icy shards stabbing her. Her blood filled his mouth in short spurts and he had trouble containing it all. At the corners of his mouth, two streams of her red essence dribbled down towards his chin.

Astarion gripped onto her arm tighter, involuntarily pulling her closer to him. Greedily, he gulped her down, sometimes stopping to lick at the puncture wounds before wrapping his maw around her wrist once more to swallow her down. He hummed in pleasure the longer he drank, possessed by the taste.

Tav felt lethargic. “ ‘Starion.”

He didn’t hear her. The scarlet of his eyes had grown foggy with a glaze of something voracious and abysmal. Guttural sounds accompanied slurps of her blood as his fangs dug in deeper.

Tav’s head fell forward meekly. She grasped onto his silvery curls with the strength that was slowly being depleted and tugged. “Astarion you must—NO MORE!”

All at once, he released her, falling backwards onto his elbows. He licked his fingers with a pleasing noise, as if he’d just treated himself to an extravagant feast.

“You were—you tasted amazing!” Breathing in quick shudders he added, "I feel…happy. Strong. My mind isn’t clouded.”

Still slumped over, she attempted to placate the vertigo that was causing her head to swim by regulating her breathing. She sounded raspy. “Could you please help me to lay down?”

“Ah! Yes, but of course. It’s the least I could do after that invigorating experience.”

Astarion crawled over to her. Cradling her against his torso, he considerately brought her down to rest on her bedroll. It was flattened, probably uncomfortable, but to Tav and her ailing situation—it felt perfect.

“Are you alright?” He asked, leaning over her, wiping her sweaty bangs from her face.

His scent rolled over her, lulling her to enter a trance. She hadn’t noticed it earlier, perhaps from her adrenaline spiking, but it was pure heaven. Bergamot, rosemary, and smokier warm notes.

“Mmhmm. A bit weak is all.”

She reached up and wiped the drying blood from his chin and lips with her sleeve, providing him with a tired simper. “Astarion? Thank you for trusting me tonight.”

He tensed as she touched him. Jaw tight. A furrowed brow. His eyes moved back and forth, searching hers. Something uncharacteristic briefly showed behind his inspection of her, then just as swiftly, faded away.

Strange.

Standing upright, Astarion turned to leave her tent. He looked over his shoulder, his voice a serious temper. “Rest well. I still need to hunt to fill myself completely, but this was a gift you know. I won’t forget it. ”

Snuggling into her blankets, she recalled the events of the night. The bizarre appeal of his icy breath. The arousal she felt when he stroked her. The pain mixed with carnal desire as he bit her. The weight of truths they shared. His unforeseen concern for her comfort. A veracity of his soul, bared to her before he left.

And as her lashes laid in long weaves along the edges of her closed eyelids, her last thoughts as she drifted off to enter the dream realm, were about the closeness Astarion unintentionally gave her that she hadn’t felt in years.

#baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate astarion #bg3 astarion #bg3 fanfiction #astarion fanfic #astarion x tav #astarion #astarion acunin #bg3 spoilers #bg3 tav #bg3 #baldur's gate #epistles of saints & sinners #bard tav #spawn astarion

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jinx-blackout-84 · 8 months

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Been trying to put a finger on why the Dream situation pisses me off and I think I figured it out.

I spent nights staring at my ceiling listening to change my clothes and dreaming about a future that I'm scared I'll never get to have. I watched every single one of his videos, read the fanfiction, sang the songs, knew the memes and jokes, couldn't look at a kettle or fork or the goddamn color green without thinking about him. And yeah, maybe it was weird, but I was TWELVE and he was the first person I had ever seen in media that was like me. That couldn't sit still, that talked weird, that just didn't quite fit in. I had a community when I was watching tiktoks about him and reading countless Tumblr posts about the dsmp lore.

It was covid and I was a kid and I was lonely and I needed so badly to have a place where I didn't have to watch the walls in my room seemed to get closer every moment.

I started having panic attacks when I went out in public, the people I was friends with started to realize I wasn't normal, that full body twitches and flappy hands weren't the typical reaction to a good song or too-bright lights. I was so lonely.

And then I found Dream's videos. And they helped me have a place where I wasn't alone in my room, feeling like a crazy person for my tics and my gender.

I cared so fucking much about this guy, trusted him with that naive trust that kids have that people are telling the truth, and then he turned out to be taking advantage of that in his fans.

It really fucking sucked to find out that my idol wasn't a good person.

And I had him on a pedestal, I thought he was perfect, I would have taken a bullet for him, alright? I cared so much because he was the only person I had ever seen who was like me.

It wasn't normal. It wasn't just me being a normal fan. I was a stan, was a parasocial fan, whatever you want to call it.

Burt he didn't do anything to stop thousands of kids just like me from being parasocial, in fact he encouraged it.

It just bothers me to think that the entire time he was telling us he cared, 12 year old me was just another viewer. Not because I was just another viewer, but because he lied to me and told me I wasn't. I am fine with just being a fan, but being told that I'm important and significant by someone who has no way of caring about me really sucked. It sucked because it really felt like he cared, but I was always just another view, another like, another subscriber, commenter, buyer. Just another consumer.

I was emotionally dependent on him and he did nothing to discourage that behavior from thousands of fans and it's disgusting because now he's taking advantage of those same fans, using them for money, flirting with MINORS that have been conditioned to care about him.

And now a huge portion of my childhood, a huge portion of the happiness I got from being part of his community, feels so gross and tainted and I will never get to have that again. I will never get to have back those days where I could watch his videos and listen to his songs.

And I fucking loved the songs.

I loved the music, music has always been a huge deal for me, and I loved it.

Now every time I hear those stupid songs I'm taken back to when I was twelve, picturing high school and thinking about my friends and all of the things twelve year olds care about. And I miss it, and I miss the stupid songs, because I can't hear them the same anymore and they should be special to me. They should be honey-dipped nostalgia and now they are gross and unsettling.

It fucking sucks to see him parade around and talk about how he deserve sympathy because he is autistic, however true that may be, because I am autistic, and it's not fun. It's not just being a little too blunt or developing a little slower. Those may be symptoms, but that's not what autism is. It's sobbing in the middle of the lunch hall as a year 8 because you have the wrong number or apple slices in your lunch. Autism isn't some excuse for behaving like a manchild, is is something that has fucked up so much for my life. And he uses it for sympathy points.

It sucks because I related so much to him and now that I know who he really is, I am left to wonder if I will be like him one day.

It took a big part of my childhood that I should be able to look back on with fondness and sort of ruined the memories.

It sucks because part of me will always care so goddamn much even if he's fucking terrible. Even if I would avoid him if I saw him in public. Even if i have him blocked on all social media. Even if i threw away every fanart i drew of him and the dream hoodie i bought with my own money. Part of me wishes he would redeem himself so I could love his songs again. Even if I really wish he would just lose his platform right now and never fucking speak again, I miss my childhood so damn much.

Kinda fucked me up to have something I cared so much about sort of destroyed in front of me just because a man that I thought could do no wrong was a shitty person.

Anyways, I hope he burns.

#jinx screams into the void #Dream neg #dream situation #Vent tw

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avvail-whumps · 19 days

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Royal Bought #7: Thorns and Roses

previous · masterlist

content warnings: vampire whump, lady whumper, multiple lady whumpees, conditioned whumpees, defiant whumpee, hypnosis, manhandling,

Luke gently ran a hand over the front of his shirt, feeling the outline of the necklace there against his palm, completely hidden. Lillia gently buttoned up the last button, her eyes flitting up to his for a moment, before she stepped backwards.

He wanted to thank her again, his heart twisting slightly from the relief, but it went unspoken.

With Lillia leading the way, he was taken back to Ileana, who seemed to have seated herself at the wooden desk, her intense eyes pinning Luke to the spot as soon as he crossed the threshold.

“We’re finished, my Lady,” Lillia smiled sweetly, and Ileana rose to her feet, smoothly and gracefully, coming towards them. Luke steeled himself to the ground, watching as those pointy fingers gently carressed the bottom of Lillia’s chin, almost making her purr.

“Thank you, my darlings,” she cooed, giving Luke a slow once over. He was suddenly aware of how heavy his necklace was on his collarbone. The girls didn’t seem worried. Ileana’s lips spread into a sly smile, stepping up close to him and invading his space. She seemed to anticipate that he would take a step back, because her long, slender fingers suddenly snapped to his jaw, keeping him still. The sharp fingernails dug into his flesh, and he bit back a painful hiss.

“Much better,” she hummed, jerking his head to the side and inspecting him. The pointy nails were going to leave crescent shaped dents on his skin, he was sure. “You look far more appealing when you’re not caked in dirt, aren’t you?”

Luke huffed through gritted teeth, face twisted into a snarl. He tried to say something, demand she get her filthy hands off him, but her grasp just tightened, squishing his cheeks. It was like he was a child, and humiliation and resent stabbed at his chest.

“Ah, ah,” Ileana purred, her eyes narrowing. “I have plenty of other humans to take care of before the end of the day. Why don’t you be a good boy and get some rest? I’m sure it’ll be much easier to take everything in if you’re well rested.”

Luke gave another sharp grunt, twisting his fingers into her wrist in some attempt to get her hands off him. The pressure was making his jaw throb, like it might snap out of place, blinking back the automatic tears that stung his eyes. He could feel his neck being forced into place, twisted up at an awkward angle, and it was hard for him to look anywhere but her eyes. When he screwed his shut, Ileana gave him a hard tug. A gasp tore from his throat at the stinging pain, eyes flying open.

“I said,” the vampire murmured, and Luke was suddenly falling through tunnels of blinding red. “Why don’t you be a good boy, and get some rest?”

Luke’s breath was suddenly caught in his throat, and when Ileana’s fingers released him, he found he couldn’t quite look away. His head was going all fuzzy and heavy, his thoughts were battling for control, and his expression, wide eyed and tightened, was staring up at her. Ileana leaned forward, flashing her fangs as she smiled. He couldn’t even move back.

“That’s right,” she cooed, her voice dripping with honey. It felt like it was wrapping Luke up snugly, coiling him against her whim. “I am sure it’s been such an exhausting day for you. All you should focus on is getting some sleep. Anything of importance will be discussed later.”

This wasn’t anything like Justinian’s compulsion. This was all consuming, sinking into each limb and each shred of muscle, making them completely hers. He didn’t want to believe her, knew that she shouldn’t, but all he could think about right now was the comforting embrace of sleep. How heavy he felt. How exhausted his mind was.

Her silver hair fell past her shoulders as she brushed her hand through his own hair, the feeling tugging at something in his brain. Telling him to obey, telling him this was right. The hand slid to his cheek, and Luke didn’t even realise he was leaning into the touch. Ileana’s vibrant eyes flickered across his face for a moment, as if studying him, but she leaned back, satisfied.

Luke could only remain stood where he was, planting to the spot. He was surprised he wasn’t swaying with her snake-like movement.

“It’s refreshing to feel someone try and fight it,” Ileana hummed absentmindely, sweeping a hand under her chin as she glanced towards the three girls, all of them swiftly looking away, as if they hadn’t been intrigued by Luke’s reaction to the compulsion. Maybe they were expecting him to break out of it. He was trying, he really was.

“Lillia, Brooke.” The two girls lifted their heads obediently. “Could you take him to a room, please? Straight to bed.”

They both nodded their heads, and Ileana stepped back to her desk, letting her girls deal with the rest. The blonde stopped in front of Luke, his vision all fuzzy and his eyelids droopy. His mind could only just process the feeling of her gently taking his hand, and Brooke guiding him by the shoulder. His feet seemed to move smoothly, effortlessly, as if he wasn’t controlling them at all.

Well, he supposed he wasn’t.

His tongue felt too heavy to say anything, and everything was spinning instead.

Beside him, Brooke shifted. Lillia was still holding his hand, helping to guide him through the corridors. Her brows furrowed.

“Lillia…” She murmured, and the blonde girl looked at her, blinking her eyelashes. She tilted her head in curiosity, then glanced down to their hands. She unlinked them, pink lip twitching with a subtle smile.

“Sorry,” she breathlessly answered, her eyes switching to Luke. She slowed a little, making sure his pace was consistent. “He can still walk okay, right?”

Of course I can, Luke wanted to say. Nothing came out. Their conversation was a little fuzzy, and hard to follow when all he wanted to do was drop down on something soft and sleep all of this grogginess away. Brooke hummed, staring at him.

“Yes,” she finally said, shifting her hand from his shoulder. “I suppose he’s not used to a pureblood’s compulsion. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone fall under it so quickly. Not even you.”

Lillia blushed, her brows furrowing in embarrassment. “That’s different.”

They turned a corner.

“Well, regardless,” Brooke continued, but there was still a hint of amusement in her tone. They stopped by a door, and Lillia fished for a key of sorts, inserting it into the lock. She gave it a hard twist, and it creaked open. Luke felt like he was hit with vertigo when they finally stepped inside. “It must have been some life. Living out there, I mean.”

It was a bedroom, it seemed. Not too large, but extravagantly filled. If Luke had been in his right mind, he might have taken a moment to observe. Instead, he felt an overwhelming tug towards the bed, Ileana’s silky voice weaving between all of his thoughts again. There was a moment of silence, before Lillia spoke. Her voice, this time, was a breathless whisper.

“Oh, Brooke,” she murmured. “I feel sorry for him.”

“Lillia, come on,” Brooke sighed. “We’ve tended to so many other humans before this. Why are you so upset?”

Their words were fuzzy, going in and out. He could barely follow it.

“Because…” She paused, her mouth pressing into a thin line. “Out there, it was probably safe, right? He could have lived a life without having to deal with all of this. We got lucky and yet…the things that we went through. What you went through. Out of everyone, he could have been the closest to ever living a normal life out there. How often do you even think he saw a vampire?”

Luke’s chest stabbed once, then twice. The realisation of this conversation was going to barrel into him in the morning. Whenever that was - Luke didn’t even know what time it was right now.

“Should I feel guilty?” Lillia continued, her voice breathless. “Do I even have that right when we’ve done this to so many other humans?”

Brooke suddenly cut in. “Don’t let Ileana hear you saying things like that.”

“She’s been too distracted with Cali,” the blonde murmured softly under her breath, tucking some of her hair behind her ear. Brooke’s eyes didn’t falter from hers, until suddenly, she was smiling slightly.

“Our Lady has her attention elsewhere, and so you move your interests towards the first guy you see?” She teases, her smile suddenly becoming coy. “And you say I’m the jealous one.”

Lillia’s cheeks went bright red. “It’s not like that. I just want to know more about what’s out there. About him. That’s all.”

Luke felt a faint touch on his arm, and just like that, everything was a blur again. His thoughts didn’t even register it this time, lost in the fuzzy sensations that were engulfing him. He felt something comforting beneath him, making him sink further under. He wanted to open his mouth, wanted to say something, but nothing was working. There must have been a slurred murmur on his tongue, because Lillia suddenly paused, grasping the bedsheets.

She glanced at Brooke. “He’s fighting it.”

“It won’t matter,” the other girl simply responded, tugging the bed sheets up instead. “He’ll just have a headache in the morning. Let’s hurry back.”

Luke’s curls splayed out on the pillow, his eyelids fluttering. Lillia and Brooke were simply two blobs in his vision now, fading into a black void as his mind slipped away, drifting off into a peaceful, undisturbed slumber. He didn’t even hear the door close.

. . .

Luke did have something of a headache when he woke up.

He didn’t know how long it had been, but ironically, it was almost as though he’d slept like the dead. Tingles reverberated in his skull as his eyes fluttered open, almost on command. He was lay flat on his back, seemingly just how he’d been left, the soft sheets cool and comfortable over his body.

Luke’s hand flew up to his temple, giving it a tense massage.

Regardless of the tingling sensation through his skull, Luke hated to admit how refreshed he felt. It was almost like the perfect sleep, and it irked him to know he’d been sleeping away so easily while Ten was somewhere out there all alone.

As if on a schedule, there was a click from the door.

The lock, Luke realised, lifting his head to watch as it swung open, and Lillia stepped inside. She was balancing a tray on her hand, a sweet smile spread across her face. Her hair was styled today, curling slightly at the bottom, half up and half down. Luke must have had a scowl on his face when she approached, because her smile faltered a little bit.

“Did you sleep alright?” She asked, placing the tray down on the bedside table with a small clatter. There was a plate of food, something foreign to Luke, and a glass of water. He eyed it wearily, sitting up. “You may have a headache.”

“I’m fine,” he grumbled, feeling the pleasant stretch in his back as he straightened up. No pain. It was as if the sleep had completely rejuvenated him. Lillia was watching curiously, and also knowingly, eager to get her two cents in.

“I love sleeping under compulsion,” she giggled, as if she could read his mind. Luke sent her a hard look. “I feel amazing when I wake up. I don’t get nightmares like Brooke, but I still ask my Lady. She’s always happy to oblige.”

Luke’s mouth was dry. “Right. Your Lady.”

Ileana - if the silver haired vampire was going to compel him into behaving, then Luke needed to get out of here as swiftly as possible. At least with Silas, there was some petty arrogance in being able to deal with any physical beating he threw his way. He’d hated the feeling of losing all of that power, so much more consuming and powerful that Justinian’s had been.

He recalled something one of the girls had said - a pureblood. Luke was out of his depth when it came to the intricacies of vampires. He didn’t even know a pureblood was a thing, or what it meant. Though, he could guess turning wasn’t the only way to create a vampire.

“Can I have some water?” He asked, pointing to the glass. Lillia winced, nodding her head as she collected herself. She’d been staring at him again.

“Of course,” she smiled, handing him the glass. She went back to the tray again. “I have some medicine for your headache, too.”

Luke took a sip. It was cool and refreshing on his dry tongue. “I’m not taking medicine.”

“But it’ll help.”

“I’m not taking it,” he firmly repeated, and Lillia flinched back. A silence spread through the room as he drank his fill, eyes flickering over to the food. The blonde looked a little fidgety now, and Luke suddenly regretted snapping the way he had done. A quiet sigh slipped past his lips.

“What’s that?”

Motioning to the food, he watched as Lillia followed it, her eyes brightening back up again.

“That’s right,” she beamed, giggling softly. “You have probably never seen something like this, have you?”

She carefully plucked the tray up, placing it on his lap. It was warm through the duvet, almost pleasant would it not be for his current situation. He had been ready to protest, but begrudgingly clamped his mouth shut after feeling a sting of regret for snapping at her when none of this was her fault. He made a disgruntled noise, but didn’t protest. Lillia looked almost pleased to tell him all about the food, which Luke stared at with hard eyes. It was circular shaped, steam rising from the surface. Something golden and thick was smothered all over it, glistening over the spongy substance.

Luke frowned hard.

“They’re pancakes,” Lillia giggled, observing his expression with glee. “Just try them.”

Luke didn’t protest when the fork was pushed into his hand, the knife in the other. After a moment of, as Lillia claimed, etiquette, since apparently it would be messy to eat with his hands, he was cutting into a small bit along the edge, soft and easy to glide along the blade of the knife. The girl suggested scooping up some syrup, she called it, and so he did.

He eased it into his mouth. Luke wasn’t exactly worried about poison; if they wanted him dead, he would be dead already. No, he was here for something far worse.

The first thing he noticed was the taste. His jaw instantly stilled, nose wrinkling slightly. It was an overpowering taste, and he promptly stared at Lillia, who looked like she was struggling to hold in a laugh behind her hand. She snorted, her eyes crinkling with a laugh as he continued to slowly chew. It was like paste, a little soggy with the syrup, and so sweet.

“It has a lot of sugar,” Lillia giggled, trying to get herself together. A part of him might be able to forget he’d been kidnapped by vampires if Lillia was by his side. “The syrup is a little sickly. You’re just not used to it.”

Luke prodded the sponge. It wasn’t bad - just not what he was used to.

“You need to eat, though,” she continued, having calmed herself down a little bit now. She tucked some hair behind her ear. “My Lady wants you to be as healthy as possible.”

“It’s…” He took another bite. “What is this?”

“Pancakes,” Lillia smiled. “They’re very nice. You can have them with all sorts of toppings. Maybe I shouldn’t have started with syrup.”

Luke grunted. He tried scraping as much of the syrup off as possible, before continuing to eat. Even if it didn’t taste amazing, his body was clawing at any chance to get some food into his stomach. He wondered just how much food the kingdom had access to when his people had been starving out in barren lands. Absentmindedly, his eyes trailed to the window.

“Can you do me a favour?” He began, glancing at Lillia as he ate. The girl’s spine straightened, beaming from head to toe.

“Happy to help.”

He motioned to the window. “The window.”

Lillia followed his gaze, rubbing her hands together. “You would like some fresh air?”

Her voice was a little tight, her throat bobbing. She looked back towards Luke, her blue eyes softening with that same look of sympathy again. A part of him recalled the conversation she and Brooke had had when he was under Ileana’s compulsion. Lillia and the others served their “Lady” like obedient pets, helping to prepare their own kind to be sold off to the same creatures that enslaved them too. Luke doubted she didn’t have a choice, but she seemed rather complacent in her role.

“Yes,” he answered. He paused, adding a small: “Please?”

The girl rubbed her neck. It seemed like the windows were meant to be kept locked shut, otherwise she wouldn't be hesitating as much as she was. After a few quiet moments, she seemed to relent. Judging by the fact she had let him keep his necklace, Luke had been expecting it.

“Alright,” she nodded. “Though, we must make a leave when you’re finished eating. My Lady is feeding, but she expects us to be on time.”

Luke dismissively nodded her head. Finished with his plate, Lillia leaned forward to take it, placing it on the bedside table once more. She watched him as he slipped out of bed, feeling a little fuzzy headed as he rose to his feet. His socked feet hit the floor, taking a moment to steady himself. Once Lillia deemed him okay to stand, she began moving over to the window, one that she opened with a key attached to a necklace around her neck. She eased it back under her clothes once done, as Luke silently picked up one of the silk napkins (was it a handkerchief? Luke didn’t care to know), cradling it in his palm.

Lillia unlatched the window, huffing as she pushed it upwards. Luke’s eyes darted to the door, murmuring a silent apology under his breath as he pressed the cloth over her mouth and nose, pulling her back against him. Lillia’s squeal was swallowed by his hand, her scared flails pinned by Luke’s other arm as he kept her close, preventing her from making too much noise.

He wanted to tell her he was sorry for knocking her out like this, but he didn’t want to say anything that the vampires, especially Ileana, might overhear. He was probably pushing his luck thinking he could do this without being caught. Lillia went under more swiftly than he had expected, her body going limp within a few minutes. He ever so gently set her down on the floor, her face relaxed and eyes closed. He made sure she was still breathing properly, setting her down modestly on her back.

Luke felt bad, but his survival was paramount. He had an eleven year old kid to look for. Stepping up towards the window, he leaned out, taking in the ground below him. It was clear, as far as he could see. He felt confidence spark in his chest as he swung his legs over, determined to make a swift getaway.

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#royal bought #whump #whump writing #whump series #whump fic #whump community #whumpblr #whump tropes #vampire whump #lady whumper #lady whumpee #multiple whumpees #defiant whumpee #story #story writing #my writing #writing #avvail whumps

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wild-lavender-rose · 1 year

Text

I’ll Come Back

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x fem!reader

Category: One-shot

Summary: When your best friend Bradley is called back to Top Gun, you fear that you’ll never see him again. It’s that fear that prompts you to reveal a secret you’ve kept from him for years...

Warning: Steamy kissing, brief mention of drinking, mild language

A/N: This is so all over the place and doesn’t really flow very well, but I don’t feel like tinkering with it and thought I would just go ahead and post. Enjoy!

“I don’t understand.” Bradley shook his head at you. “I’ve left a million times,”

“But not like this. You’ve never been called back to Top Gun.” You stared at him, willing him to listen. “This is different and you know it.”

“How? Every mission has a risk, it’s part of the job,”

“But not like this!” You growled and turned away, running an anxious hand through your hair. “Look, I’ve got a bad feeling about this. I think...I think you should break your leg or, or just, I don’t know! Just don’t go.”

“Honey, that’s not how the military works.” Bradley smirked, causing your anger at his ignorance to burn. He was always doing that, teasing you, calling you pet names, pretending that the two of you were still kids. But you weren’t kids anymore. This, Bradley’s mission, was big and scary and you didn’t want him to go.

But Bradley just didn’t seem to understand. “You’re acting childish.”

“Bradley,” you squeezed your eyes shut against the overwhelmed tears rising within you.

“It’s only three weeks, then I’ll come back and you’ll have someone to call at three am when you’re drunk at the bar or god knows where,”

“Bradley, stop.”

“What then? What do you want from me?”

“I can’t.”

“You can’t what?!”

“I can’t lose you!” You whirled to face him, anger and pain overriding your fear as the tears finally began to fall. “You’re not going, it’s not happening, I can’t lose you.”

Bradley stared at you, the words hanging in the air between you. His eyes widened. “Honey,”

“No! No, this is not up for debate. You’re not going and I don’t care,” the secret was coming, rising to the surface, threatening to spill out into the world. “You’re not going, it’s not happening, I can’t lose you.”

“Baby.”

“Tell them that you can’t fly this mission, tell them it’s impossible.”

“Baby,” Bradley crossed the space between you and touched your arm.

“No!” You jerked away and looked up at him, choking back a sob. “I love you, okay? I love you and your stupid smirk and your stupid mustache and I love how every time I shut you out you always come back for more. I love you, you dumb jerk! And I couldn’t live if you didn’t, you didn’t-,” you cut yourself off with a cry of pain.

“Stop it, honey, stop.” Bradley pulled you into your arms and kissed you deep and hard. The kind of kiss that consumed all other thought. You slid your hand through his hair and pulled him closer, closing your eyes as you kissed back.

Bradley’s hands slid around your waist and pressed his body against yours. His tongue slipped into your mouth and you allowed him entrance, desperate to get close. Desperate to do anything. Stay, you thought. Stay stay stay.

You tugged at his hair. Bradley groaned and picked you up, head tilting back as he wrapped your legs around him just above his waist. You broke the kiss and gasped for air. Bradley supported your back as you grasped at his shoulders, peppering your face with kisses as you forced your breathing to slow and the tears to stop.

“I love you too.” He whispered.

“Please don’t leave.”

Bradley looked up at you like he was memorizing your face. His eyes searched yours, desperate and torn and ready to become consumed by you again and not come up for air. You touched his neck, his jaw, his scars, his hair. It was so new, so warm, so perfect. You couldn’t lose this.

“Three weeks.” Bradley nodded. “Three weeks, then I’m coming back.”

“And then?”

“Then I’m going to ask my girl out,” he eased you back to the ground. “And I’m gonna pray that she finally says yes.”

“Promise you’ll come back.” You slid your arms around him. “Promise this won’t be your last mission.”

“I promise, baby.” Bradley kissed the top of your head. “I promise. I’ll come back.”

You stretched up to bump your forehead against his. “I love you.” You breathed.

“I love you so much.” Bradley wrapped you up tight in his arms. “You know how I know I’ll come back?”

“Because you’re a good pilot.”

“That, and, I’ve got someone to come back home to.”

You squeezed your eyes shut against the tears and held him back with everything inside you, willing yourself to believe him.

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fandomfluffandfuck · 2 months

Note

S oh my god I’m going bananas

So I’m mainly thinking about TFA Seb who has made it his mission in life to make Chris go crazy. Drawn out, narrowed eyed looks, obscene lips curled for a second too long around the head of a beer bottle, innuendos and dirty jokes all made to make the night last forever.

They’re not even dating! But Seb knows that Chris likes him, and he also knows that Chris is too scared to make the first move. So he makes it absolutely fucking unbearable. It all comes to a point when they realize that it’s easier for Chris to just stay at Sebastian’s rather than take the hour’s drive home. So when Chris asks if Sebastian has any pajamas he can borrow, Sebastian just looks at him with a smirk.

“I don’t usually wear them, so no.”

“Well, what so you sleep in?” He asks, confused.

“Chanel No. 5.” Seb says, a fucking evil smile on his face.

Chris might seriously pass out.

“Unless I’ve got someone over. Then I usually get… preoccupied…” Sebastian continues, and Chris can feel his blood pressure hit the ceiling. It gets worse when Sebastian narrows his eyes and his grin gets bigger.

“You okay, Chris? You’ve gone a bit red…” His voice is innocent and sweet like honey, and Chris isn’t sure this is real.

“Y-Yeah, I’m fine.” His stutter gives him away immediately, and Sebastian giggles.

“You sure?” He asks, getting up from the chair and sitting down next to him. Chris can’t fucking breathe. He just nods. Sebastian puts a hand over his forehead like he’s checking if Chris is sick. They both know he’s not.

“You feel a bit hot… D’you want something to help you cool down?”

This time, there’s no response. Chris is pretty sure his brain has just shut off at this point.

“Oh, I know.” Sebastian gasps, like he hasn’t been teasing Chris for hours now. “You’re flustered, aren’t you?” Sebastian’s eyes are dancing with mischief, and Chris is so lost in them he can only nod.

“Poor boy. You’re all riled up, and you just want someone to help.” It’s not a question. In a split second, Sebastian is straddling Chris’s lap, his arms wrapped around his neck.

“You’re just needy, aren’t you, sweetheart?” He tilts his head, and Chris can see something black beneath his shirt. Sebastian notices his confusion and giggles again.

“You see something? Yeah, honey. I wore something special for you. Wanna see it?” Chris nods dumbly, because his mouth can’t do anything but wonder how Sebastian’s skin would feel under it.

Chris is fucking floored by what he sees when Sebastian pulls off his shirt. Pretty, delicate black lace sits cupping his chest, and Chris can see more peeking out from under his jeans.

“You like what you see?” Sebastian taunts, but is cut off because Chris finally finds his brain. He kisses Sebastian breathless, hands tight on his waist.

“Fuck yeah I do.”

Oh my fucking god

I love this idea! 😮‍💨😮‍💨

Like, viscerally, I love, love, love this. I love flirty Seb. I love playful and teasing Seb. I, as we all know, am very much gone for submissive and sweet Sebastian but am also so fucking down for bratty, daring, and flirty Sebastian.

There's just 🤌🏻something🤌🏻 about him.

I wanna smack him around, and you know he'd like that.

Just having Sebastian flaunt himself, daring and bold and unashamed, he knows he's wanted, so why not? He's just toying with Chris, waiting for him to snap, and that--that moment where Chris resolves shatters, that's the moment Sebastian is looking for. That's what he wants. He wants him to be unable to take it anymore, and then he wants Chris to make him take it 😮‍💨

Christ 🥴🥴

They're too much. What a fucking pair. Complete trouble. I can't believe them. Ugh!

Thank you for bringing bratty Seb back to the forefront of my mind. I will be consumed by thoughts of him once more.

#asks #sillysickly #anon provided writing #chris evans #sebastian stan #evanstan #rpf #real person fanfiction #brat seb #<- idk if I've ever used that tag but it's a tag i desperately need #sub seb #subastian #sub sebastian #dom chris

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vole-mon-amour · 11 months

Text

3x12, Jamie edition, part 4.

Jamie is basically ruling this game at this point. My wonderful, wonderful boy. All this training. All that development through the seasons. I am so fucking proud of him.

You know what this reminds me of? "Hey Jamie! JAMIE! 🖕"

It was what, 1x022? 1x03? When Ted wanted Jamie to be like this and Jamie was like, "Is this a fucking joke? But no one is laughing. I'm not fucking doing this." And now? NOW??? LOOK AT HIM GO!!!!

They fit sooo many callbacks into this ep. I love it.

Jamie in the center of attention again. Jamie celebrating with Sam and the entire team cheering them on. Beard running towards them. I want to grab them all in one huge hug.

Just what, a day or two ago a was begging for them to win, in a post about how important it is for me for Jamie to score? They did it. They fucking did it. ;_; I LOVE THEM SO MUCH.

Ted celebrating with his previous team. Ted celebrating with this team. And look at Jamie. My boy.

Guys. How am I supposed to just let this show go? The thing that Jason created... Tears, just tears. The only piece of media that I was able to consume in 2021 and that got me through that year after my parents died. My goodness, it's everything.

He. Him. I'm gonna ignore the circumstances bc fuck that. Jamie deserves better.

But while I'm at it, Jamie needs therapy just as much as Roy. With his depression and PTSD it would only be right. Jamie probably needs meds, too. I want him to get better (and remove his abuser from him! Who fucking thought this was a good idea? Who thought to "forgive your abuser" is the right thing to do? I have questions to the writing room.)

Knee to knee, kiss already. I can feel so much Brett in this Roy, but I'm glad the boys are having fun together and seem to genuinely be very good friends.

Ooh, you make me live Whatever this world can give to me It's you, you're all I see Ooh, you make me live now, honey

That kind of thing. :) Now I can make edits, hehe.

Jamie being good friends with Rebecca? Are you kidding me? This is perfect. The height difference so that he has to tip toe :')

Also, Keeley in sneakers instead of high heels is such a wonderful development. Hell yeah, babe! Let your feet rest!

Roy was turning so for a second I thought he was going to join the hug and hug Jamie from behind. *deep sigh* Almost a kiss this season, almost a romantic hug. If only.

Soft boy. :') Such uncharacteristic, unusual look but yeah :')

So you can canonize this but not RJ and/or RJK? Really? Where did all the talk about Roy and Jamie being the best couple of the show go? Phil? Phil, I have questions.

But hey, for better or for worse, by weird feeling of Roy, Jamie, and Keeley all staying single seems to be working? Sure, they showed them all together, we can take it any way we like it. But I definitely see it more like Roy x Jamie at best and Keeley is focusing on her work. Roy and Jamie are sitting next to each other, very, VERY close & Keeley is a bit away from them. Hugging Phoebe :') She still loves that girl, obviously.

Lots to process, but if it IS the end of the show, I can basically make anything I want out of this. Which is still better than what they could've done, for which I'm still a tiny bit grateful. Didn't ruin it completely and thanks for that.

This isn't final thoughts, just some after the first watch. Gotta think on it and sleep on it and live for like a week on it.

#natiswatching #jamie tartt #ted lasso #roy x jamie #roy x jamie x keeley

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tommyshelbyswh0re · 1 year

Text

In our hearts forever- tommy shelby

summary- mrs shelby has a cough which turns out to be a lot worse than they thought.

warnings-angst, death, talks of the afterlife, grieve, not edited or proofread coz i’m lazy, just really sad tbh

psa- i know absolutely nothing about medicine or illnesses. i googled most of this so it definitely isn’t historically accurate.

it started with a sore throat on a random thursday afternoon. she thought that tea with honey would help. and it did. it soothed her aching throat for a couple of minutes before she again found it hard to swallow or speak. she passed it off as a winter cold.

by 10pm, tommy had returned home to find his wife in their bedroom asleep. he thought it was odd because his wife was always a night owl. there was multiple occasions where he snuck downstairs with a revolver in his hand in the middle of the night because he heard clashing of pans in the kitchen only to find her humming a tune and baking treats. he adored her for it. he loved going to work with a lemon muffin in his briefcase because his wife knew he barely consumed anything other than cigarettes and irish whisky. “thomas i don’t know how you don’t faint mid-day when there’s nothing in your stomach” she would roll her eyes at him.

he shook her awake out of concern. “sweetheart, are you ok?” he asked. “im fine” she mumbled in her half-asleep daze before she had all but a coughing fit. thomas didn’t know what to do. ofcourse he had seen his wife sick but he did not have a good feeling about this. “water” she heaved out whilst trying to reach for her glass of water on the bedside cabinet. he quickly passed it to her and helped her sit up. “i think i’m getting ill” she whined.

“oh really? do you think?” he sarcastically chuckled. this caused her to giggle which furthermore caused her to return to her coughing fit. once she had stopped she pressed a kiss to her husbands knuckles before attempting to go back to sleep.

thought the night she kept awakening with her coughing fits. this kept tommy up and he knew that he would take the next day off work to help his wife get better.

“thomas you don’t have to, i’ll be fine” she told him the next morning once she knew of his plans to stay home.

“no, as of today i am at your beck and call. whatever you need, let me know” he kissed her forehead.

a couple of hours later he heard her coughing again. this time it sounded a lot worse than before so he ran upstairs to check on her. he was not prepared for what he saw. he saw his wife sweating buckets whilst shivering. her teeth her chattering with a trace of red and it was then that he knew she was coughing up blood. that and the droplets of blood on the bed sheets from where she had struggled to pull herself up. his first instinct was to panic. he knew that this wasn’t just a cold from the cold winter weather. he grabbed her a glass of water and mentioned something about ringing the physician. his wife couldn’t tell though because she was focusing on trying not to dry heave.

thomas ran downstairs to the phone to ring the doctor who came straight to the home. once the doctor knocked on the door, tommy immediately let him in.

“you called mr shelby?” the doctor asked. “yes, my wife, she’s not well. she’s had a sore throat and cough since yesterday and today it has gotten worse. she’s shivering and sweating at the same time” thomas spoke with panic wavering his voice as he lead the doctor up the staircase and in to their spare bedroom. “sweetheart the doctor is here, he has come to check over you” he said after entering.

“okay” she whimpered.

the doctors pressed a stethoscope to mrs shelby chest and ask her to breath in. as she did so, a loud wheeze escaped causing both tommy and the doctor to furrow their brows. the doctor looked concerned which in turn panicked thomas even more.

“rest now mrs shelby. mr shelby, may i speak with you outside?” the doctor whispered the last part to thomas to which he responded with an immediate nod of his head and lead the doctor out into the hallway.

“it seems mrs shelby has signs of spanish influenza. as of right now, there is no cure of this illness. i’m afraid she doesn’t have long left” the doctor patted tommy’s arm.

“i don’t believe you. there has to be something?” thomas was getting angry. he had already seen his first love gretta die from this and assumed by now there would be some kind of medication.

“im afraid not. the fatality rate of this disease is 100%. she will not survive this. spend as much time with her as you possibly can” and with that, the doctor let himself out.

thomas stood in the hallway for what felt like hours, but was really 10 minutes. his brain tried to process this devastating news. how can his y/n be taken away. she had done nothing in her life to deserve this. she was good. she had a kind soul. she had dedicated her life to selflessness and helping others in time of need and now there was nothing to help her. thomas didn’t understand it at all. he had murdered, inflicted pain, lied to get his own way and used people and yet he was still healthy. he could breathe without feeling like his lungs would collapse and he could speak at full volume without having to take breaks to finish a small sentence. his y/n was happy and healthy less than 3 days ago. and now she would be taken away from him and this world far before he ever imagined. he had ultimately decided not to tell y/n that this could be her last day on earth. he didn’t want her to know that she would never see him again.

he walked back into the bedroom and sat at her bed side. he took her hand in his and kissed her knuckles. with his other hand, he stroked her hair and accidentally grazed her forehead, realising how hot it was. he stood up, walked to the adjoining toilet and placed a towel under the cool water. he came back and gently placed it on her forehead making her smile in her sleep.

“im going downstairs love. i’m going to update pol on what the doctor says. i’ll be back in 10 minutes, don’t go anywhere.” he meant that in the sense of dying. don’t die y/n. not whilst im not here. you don’t deserve to leave this earth without love surrounding you.

“where would i go?” y/n whispered jokingly with her eyes closed, still not aware of her diagnosis.

“places love, places” tommy smiled sadly.

he practically ran down stairs and rang polly.

“hello, polly speaking” she answered the phone.

“pol it’s tommy. y/n’s not well. it’s bad. the doctor came and said it’s spanish influenza and there’s nothing they can do. she’s going to die. please come, she needs you” he hurriedly spoke through the phone.

“what are you talking about thomas?” she hastily asked, panic setting in her bones.

“my wife is fucking dying. you need to come” he nearly shouted down the phone.

“we are on our way” pol’s voice cracked.

“please hurry, i don’t know how much time we have with her” he sobbed and out the phone down.

he walked back up the stairs to find y/n’s fingers turning blue. she was still shivering.

“im back love” he whispered

“i knew you would be” she used some of her remaining energy to pat the bed next to her and invite him to lay with her.

“you need to rest” he denied.

“please thomas? i know i haven’t got long left i can feel it. i want out last conversation to be with my head on your chest, listening to your heartbeat so i know you’ll be okay. i want to die in the arms of my lover.” her voice cracked and tommy’s eyes watered.

“okay” he whispered back and he slowly walked towards the bed and layed down gently in hopes to not cause her any more pain.

she struggled but eventually snuggled into his arms and spoke up.

“i love you thomas. you know that. you’ve always known that just as i know you have always loved me. i don’t want you to lose faith in this world. there is not a reason for everything and sometimes thing just happen. i know i didn’t do anything to deserve this and you need to know that this is not the world getting back at you for the mistakes you have made either. we fell inlove when i was twelve and you were thirteen and it doesn’t end here. my love for you shines thomas. so whenever you feel hopeless, look into the sky and the brightest star represent me and my love looking down at you and encouraging you. you can do whatever you put your mind to. everything you want in life can be yours if you set your sights on it. we weren’t blessed with children but you are going to be an amazing father one day. with another woman-“

“no. your my last love. i never want to feel another woman’s love because it wouldn’t even compare to the feeling of yours” he shook his head. there were tears falling down both of your faces.

“im not telling you to go out and be a ladies man” she chuckled. “but don’t run away if it finds you. i want you to move on with the right woman. i want you to have a home and a family. don’t sacrifice the quality of your life because i’m not here anymore. live it for both of us. we will meet again thomas. when and where the idea of death is in the past and we don’t have to worry about ever loosing one another again. i’ll wait for you to return to me and i’ll welcome you with open arms. i’ll scope the afterlife out and set us up with an eternity of love. don’t forget thomas, i’m always watching and encouraging you. and certainly don’t forget that i love you, always have and always will.” her voice weakened as she spoke and her energy was going fast.

“i love you my dearest y/n. i’ll never forget you. i’ll live for us both and every achievement i receive is ours. everything i do is in your memory. you are the love of my life. i don’t know what i’m going to do without you.” he sobbed.

she used the last piece of her energy to lift her hand to his face “you will be ok.” and with that and a murmured last ‘i’ll wait for you’ her hand dropped and so did her chest. she was gone, and with that, so was a chunk of tommy’s heart.

—

when polly arrived to see that y/n was already gone her heart broke. not only for y/n but for tommy. their love was a type of love you read about in books and she knew tommy would be lost without his y/n.

#peaky blinder imagine #tommy shelby angst #grace shelby #peaky blinders imagines #shelby imagine #thomas shelby #peaky blinder headcanon #peaky blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #fluff

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stillsaltyaboutmcr · 1 year

Text

The Crash: Bradley Bradshaw Part 3

Part one

part two

Part 3!!!! This is where things kinda kick off- hope y’all like it!

Warnings: cursing, mild violence, some innuendos and angsty Rooster with his Dad

Taglist: @fandom-life-12

“What the fuck?” Bradley looked so pissed despite having his dad back. Goose had sat everyone down in the living room. The barbeque had finished and everyone went home. Sat in the room was Goose, Maverick, Penny, Hangman, Rooster and myself. I let Goose do most of the talking, afraid I’d let out insults and just fuel the fire already burning. Rage was consuming me seeing everyone just fine without me, but Goose on the other hand was calm and collected. He was much older than me, and had a lot more history with the two men I felt a hatred for, but yet he didn’t seem to feel any sort of anger.

“I know this is hard to take in, but I’m real, so is she. We’ve went through a lot to find you guys and I for one am very ready to try to rekindle what we all had. I know you probably feel abandoned Brad, but I found my way back to you and I want to be your father again.” Bradley scoffed at his father’s words, looking disgusted that he’d even say that.

“Bradley, don’t.” Maverick spoke up. “You have no idea what happened that day. It was a freak accident. If Goose had the chance to come back that day, he would’ve. Don’t act like he left you.”

Bradley seemed to soften his expression at those words and that just absolutely enraged me. “I’m sorry.” Everyone turned to me. “Last time I checked you’re supposed to be MY dad, not his. His is sitting right here.”

“Honey, you know that I see Bradley like a son. I have since he was born.”

“Don’t ‘honey’ me. Goose has been more of a father to me in the year I’ve spent with him than you have my entire life. You left me for dead! You didn’t even bother to check if I was alive! You only cared if Bradley was and then you both left! What kind of father does that??Goose found me, took me in when he was barely taking care of himself and took me across the globe to find you. That’s what a father does, so don’t ‘honey’ me and lecture me about your view of Bradley.” I was seething at this point. Jake ended up taking me out of the room to let Goose handle it without any further disruptions from me.

“Y/N, I know this is a lot, and I bet this is incredibly hard for you right now, but yelling at everyone isn’t going to get us anywhere right now. Why don’t we go sit upstairs and let you relax huh? I’m sure you’ve had so much stress this past year, why don’t you go lay down?” Jake was soft and tender with me, and usually I’d melt right into him, let myself relax in his arms.

“You don’t know Jake. No one ever thought to check if I made it out alive. No one thought to send rescue out for me when they returned without me.” I had tears running down my face now, I was at a breaking point. “I just wanna know how everyone can be so okay with letting me die?” My voice had softened as the question left my mouth and Jake immediately engulfed me into a hug as I sobbed onto his cotton t-shirt. “Why did they leave me? Why didn’t anyone come to find me?”

“I don’t know baby, I don’t know.” He was rubbing my back and holding me, letting me get it all out.

After awhile Goose came into the kitchen where we were. “Hey kid, you okay?”

“Not really, no. I just wanna go home.”

Goose sighed and looked down. “About that.”

“What about it?” My eyes widened, almost begging him not to say what I think he’s about to say.

“Bradley is coming to live with me, so it’ll be the three of us. Your dad asked for you to move here but I told him you’d need more time, I hope that’s okay.” While I appreciated him standing up for me and letting me stay with him, living with Bradley was not my ideal situation.

“Goose, no. I’m not living with Bradley I’m sorry.”

“Kid, I get it. If I have a say in it, my goal is to keep you both apart as much as possible, maybe try to fix whatever misconception there may be.” I shook my head but knew deep down it’d be better than living with my dad.

“You can always come live with me babe. We’ve been together for awhile now.” Jake spoke up. My head snapped in his direction. Did he really think I’d just fall back into his arms after this? Yes, I may have just cried into his shoulder but that does not mean we’re still together after everything.

“Jake-and I mean this respectfully- how could you think we’re still together after everything that happened? You thought I was dead and now that I’m not, you think we’re just gonna be a couple again? I’m sorry but we’re starting from the bottom here. Everyone here is except for Goose.” Jake’s expression fell.

“Are you breaking up with me?”

“We broke up when you all buried an empty casket.” I walked out, bumping into Goose and headed straight for the car. I wanted to go home, even if that meant I had to deal with Bradley.

Soon after Bradley and Goose were exiting the house with a bag in Bradley’s hand. I sighed as they approached the car. “Get out of my seat.” Bradley opened the car door and motioned for me to move but I stayed put. “Are you deaf? I said move.”

“Hey, Brad. Just sit in the back for now, okay kid?” Bradley rolled his eyes and scoffed, climbing into the backseat. “Thank you. Let’s go home kids.”

Goose drove us back to the place the VA gave him to stay until he found a more permanent solution. “Bradley, let me show you to your room, Y/N, go relax for a bit, I’ll come get you when dinners ready okay?” Goose shot me a small smile and I returned it and headed to my room. I knew they both had a lot to talk about and catch up on, even if Bradley didn’t reciprocate the efforts Goose was making.

I could tell he wanted to reconcile with his son, having been gone for decades from his life. Goose wanted nothing more than to find Carol, have a good relationship with his son and pick up where he could, make things semi- how they were. He asked a lot of questions about Bradley during our travels, and he learned about how Bradley and I interacted in our day to day lives. To say Goose was disappointed was an understatement, he even told me once after a late night conversation about it: “Mav and I always joked that you two would end up married in the future. How we were both terribly wrong.”

That statement has stuck with me since. Bradley and I married? I could never see it. I couldn’t see myself getting married to anyone for that matter.

Just as I was about to jump in the shower, my phone went off. “Oh fuck.” I answered begrudgingly, knowing the terror that was about to strike me.

“Y/N? Please tell me this isn’t some sick joke.” Her voice was quiet, broken, tear-ridden. It was Natasha, one of my best friends. I had fully expected her to scream at me and call me a bitch for not calling her sooner, but this was almost worse.

“Hey Nat, it’s really me.” I heard her sobs through the phone as my heart broke. I had forgotten that this affected more people than just my dad and Bradley.

“Oh my God. When Hangman called me, I thought he was playing with me. Oh, Y/N…” Hangman called her, of course he did. Who else did he call?

“Nat, hey it’s okay. I’m okay.”

“I’m sorry, I just. I needed to hear your voice, confirm it was true.” Before I could get another word out, she spoke again. “I’ve, I’ve-uh. I’ve spoken to Bob. He won’t answer my calls. I think he’s in shock that you’re alive. He took it really hard when you didn’t come back, we all did. I would love to see you, we all would. I know you have a lot going on, I’m sure of it, but- um- I really need to see your face.” I sighed, tears falling from my own eyes at the mention of Bob’s name. Sweet, sweet Bob. His voice still rings through my ears, yelling at Rooster not to take me down with him.

“For sure Nat, we’ll get together, I have a lot to catch you up on.” A knock appeared at my door. “I have to go though, dinner calls.” I hear her laugh a little and my heart swells.

“Enough said, go eat. I’m sure you’re in need of a good meal.” With that, the call ended and I answered my door to see Bradley.

“What do you want?”

“Goose- er, Dad says that dinners ready, if you want to come down.” I could see it on his face, he was struggling just as much as I was.

“Uh- yeah. I’ll be down in a second.” He nodded and disappeared down the stairs. I couldn’t be feeling sorry for him, could I? After what he did?

—

Dinner went well, until Goose told us we were in charge of dishes. We both sighed, but agreed. “Good. You two need to learn to get along because I will not have this constant battle going on in my house.” There’s that dad voice I’ve been waiting to hear.

“Yes sir.” We both spoke before we caught what we said.

“Now get at it. Dishes won’t clean themselves.”

Bradley and I mostly washed and dried in silence, not daring to speak knowing it would only cause trouble. It was going smoothly and we were almost done until he nearly dropped a plate into the rinse side of the sink. “God Bradley! Watch what you’re doing! You incompetent prick.” I caught it and quickly dried it off, placing it with the other in the cabinet above my head. When I came down to my flat feet, an arm wrapped around my waist and spun me around, pinning me to the counter.

“Don’t speak to me like that.” Bradley was inches away from my face. “Shut your mouth.” His practically hissed when he spoke, venom dripping from his mouth.

“Make me.” I straightened up, bringing our bodies flush against each other. “What’re you gonna do? Huh?”

His hand wrapped around my throat and he brought his mouth up to my ear and whispered in a low, hushed tone. “You don’t wanna know what I would do to you.” He released me and moved away before washing the last two dishes and walking out of the kitchen, leaving me speechless. What just happened?

What was I feeling just now? Why did he react that way? Grab me that way? Did I cross a line? Or did he just tell me what the problem has really been all these years?

#jake seresin #top gun maverick #bradley bradshaw #top gun rooster #top gun au #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #hangman seresin x reader #hangman seresin smut #bob floyd x reader

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